Highway From Hell
by hbwgonnabe
Summary: Finished! Joe finds our Heaven isn't all it's cracked up to be when he's admitted to a drug rehab facility. But is it forced, or is it Joe's roundabout way of getting his own form of justice? Find out in Highway from Hell. Red Hardy wrote the summary.
1. Chapter One

Highway from Hell  
  
Chapter One  
  
Blond headed, blue eyed, six foot, seventeen year old Joe Hardy took his tray and sat down at the end of the first long table he came to. This was his third day at the Edna Dulcimer Foundation where he had been admitted to undergo detoxification for a heroin addiction he had been forced into when he had been kidnaped by drug dealers. They had hoped to get him dependent on them but his father and brother had rescued him and admitted him to this rehab center.  
  
"Hey Blondie!" an obnoxious short brown-haired girl yelled down the table at him as he sat down. She was only sixteen but had been in rehab four times already.  
  
"Hey Toots!" Joe yelled back. "Whose heart you after today?" he added, referring to her reputation of being a heart-breaker.  
  
"Only yours Brat," she shouted, giving him a smile. "Come on down," she added. "I saved you a seat."  
  
"I'm cool," Joe told her, shaking his head and causing a lock of his hair to fall across his forehead. He picked up his fork and stabbed what looked like meat loaf. He'd been puking since he got here and his stomach was screaming for food. He made a face at the meat and crammed it into his mouth.  
  
"Cardboard," said a voice to his left. Joe looked over at the nineteen year old blond headed guy beside him. "It taste like cardboard. Everything here does," he told Joe, his green eyes taking in Joe's puzzled expression. "I'm Dave," he introduced himself.  
  
"Joe," Joe said, acknowledging the introduction with one of his own. "How long have you been here?" he asked.  
  
"This time around, I'm on my fourth day," Dave answered. "I'm outta here soon though. My agonies are over."  
  
Joe knew he was talking about the withdrawal sypmtoms. "Have you met Ken?" Joe asked.  
  
"The freakazoid?" Dave retorted.  
  
"What's his beef?" Joe demanded, a shake of his blond head. "I stay in bed an extra ten lousy minutes and he's on my case."  
  
"Don't sweat it," Dave advised. "He does his best to get everyone out of here."  
  
"So he hates all of us bedbugs?" Joe asked, referring to himself and his fellow addicts.  
  
"Nah," Dave denied. "Ken used to be a junkie. He knows the score. He also knows the sooner you start acting semi-normal, the sooner you get out of here."  
  
"So, in a few more days I'm clear," Joe said.  
  
"No way, man," Dave told him with a shake of his head. "This is your first time, isn't it?" he asked. "How long were you using?"  
  
"Not long," Joe admitted. "My folks put me in here just a few days ago. How could you tell?" he asked.  
  
"Detox last ages kiddo," Dave told him. "This part is only the beginning. After you leave here you've got to fight off the cravings and drop your friends."  
  
"Forget that!" Joe exclaimed, scowling.  
  
"That's how most of us feel," Dave concurred. "Which, I'm told, is why most of us are repeats."  
  
Joe shoveled a couple more bites into his mouth then he put his fork down. His appetite had vanished. "I'll see you later," Dave said, getting up and taking his tray to the counter after dumping his trash.  
  
Joe followed Dave to the counter and emptied his tray into the trash and set it on the counter. As Joe made his way to the door, Toots came running up behind him. "Hey Sweetie," she said.   
  
"What do you want?" Joe asked, trying to sound harassed.  
  
"I've got something for you," she whispered mysteriously. "Meet me at the swings in twenty minutes," she said before she left the cafeteria.  
  
Stepping outside, Joe blinked at the bright sunlight. He reached inside his shirt pocket and withdrew a pair of cheap sunglasses Frank had brought him when he had visited yesterday. Slipping them on, he slowly made his way to the swings which stood near the six foot wire fence surrounding the grounds. He sat down and waited to see what Toots had for him.  
  
As he waited, he thought back to his brother's visit yesterday. A year older with brown hair and brown eyes, Frank took his responsibility as older brother very seriously. The ordeal Joe was presently going through was nothing compared to the way Frank felt. He was convinved Joe's addiction was, in a way, his fault for not being there when he had been taken. Joe had been grounded from working on a case involving half a million dollars, smuggled diamonds, and drug dealers. While Frank and their father, world famous private investigator, Fenton Hardy, went on a sting, Joe had been left home where he had been kidnapped.  
  
During his captivity, Joe had been given several injections of heroin. Enough to put him through physical withdrawal when the injections ceased. What Joe knew, but his brother nor parents knew, was that Joe had, using the term the junkies gave it, honeymooned. He hadn't been on it long enough to form an actual addiction.  
  
While in Bayport Memorial after having been rescued, he lay, semi-conscious, while Sergeant Con Riley had entered his hospital room and spoke to his family about the case. The person or persons responsible for supplying the drugs had eluded capture. When he had a seizure at the hospital later that night and Frank had been forced to leave the room, Joe had convinced the doctor to let his family think he was a full-blown addict. His brother would never have have allowed Joe the opportunity to go in undercover as an addict.  
  
Joe scowled, berating himself for the look of sadness on Frank's face yesterday. He had almost caved in and told Frank the truth but he hadn't had a chance to make any connections. He'd been too ill. Yesterday afternoon had been his first real opportunity to meet anyone. If he could just keep it a secret from Frank until he was released, then he was sure he could convince him and his father to let him keep up the charade until they got at the suppliers.  
  
He looked up as he heard footsteps approaching. He saw Toots, her blue eyes hidden beneath a pair of dark sunglasses much like Joe's own, walking towards her. She sat down on the swing next to his.  
  
"Well?" he asked impatiently as she started swinging and never spoke.  
  
"I noticed you been bangin' it in," she said.  
  
"Huh?" Joe asked in confusion.  
  
"You know. In the arms," she said with an air of superiority. "You're new at this."  
  
"Yeah," Joe admitted with a sigh.  
  
"You should try chasing the tiger instead," Toots told him. "Less noticable." He looked at her and cocked his head to one side. "Smoking it," she said in exasperation. "If you weren't so cute, I'd give up," she told him. "Look," she said, slowing down and coming to a stop. "I've got a couple of hits stashed. I'm leaving in the morning so uh... you can have one."  
  
Joe's mouth curled into a smile. "Really?" he asked.  
  
"Yeah, well," she said. "It's not a lot but it'll help you get through the rest of your imprisonment here."  
  
"So, uh...where'd you get it?" he asked, knowing the patients were searched not only on admittance but at least twice a day thereafter.  
  
"A friend," she said, smiling at him.  
  
"Do I get to pay you back?" he asked her.  
  
"Mmm-hmm," she agreed. "You get out in a few days, right?" she asked.  
  
Joe shrugged. "Guess so." He wasn't sure exactly how long he was in for.  
  
"My real name is Terri Mavis. I'm in the book," she told him. "Call me when you get out?"  
  
"It may take a day or two," Joe told her. "My man was busted so I gotta find a new one."  
  
"No sweat, Sweets," she told him. "I'll turn you on. Meet me outside the cafeteria half an hour before lights out," she told him. "We'll take our G-shot and be cool for a bit," she added, before she left.  
  
Joe sat on the swing, wondering what a G-shot was and how he was going to fool Toots into believing he was taking it. 


	2. Chapter Two

Highway from Hell  
  
Chapter Two  
  
Joe got up and went back inside. The light outside was too bright for his dilated eyes even with the sunglasses. As he entered the recreation room Ken came over to meet him. "Your brother's here again," he told Joe. Joe nodded and left for the common room which held several tables with assorted chairs scattered around. All contact with the outside world had to take place in the common room and all visitors were searched before being allowed to enter.  
  
Joe sank into a seat opposite Frank. "Hi, Baby Brother," Frank said, using the same gentle voice he had since Joe had opened his eyes in the hospital. "How you doing?"   
  
"I'm not puking my brains out anymore," Joe replied, looking at his brother's worried face through his dark glasses.  
  
"Mom and Dad are coming later today," Frank told him. "They won't let more than two in at a time," he explained. Joe nodded. "Need anything?" Frank asked after a few moments of uncomfortable silence. Joe shook his head. "Dad's been trying to find out where they got the junk to shoot you up but he doesn't have any leads yet," Frank informed Joe.  
  
"What about those DEA guys Dad was working with?" Joe asked. "Don't they know anything?"  
  
"Agent Mason was shot in the back early yesterday morning," Frank told Joe. "The other two agents can't be found."  
  
"What about Agent Milekeal in Chicago?" Joe inquired. "If it wasn't for him, none of this would have happened."  
  
"No good," Frank told him. " Once Davenport and his men were busted, Mikeal's case was finished." Joe raised his eyebrows at this. "Dad did check on the matter but there were no leads. This case has hit a dead end."  
  
"So what happens now?" Joe asked.  
  
"Now you get better and come home," Frank said.. "The counselor has talked to us. It's not going to be easy," he continued. "But there's this medicine that will help control the cravings and you only have to take it once a day."  
  
"For how long?" Joe demanded.  
  
"Around three months," was the reply. Frank stared at his little brother, wishing he would take the glasses off so he could see his eyes. He could always tell what Joe was thinking by looking into his eyes.  
  
"Frank," Joe said, hating himself for what he was about to say but knowing he had to or else nothing would get done. "Do me a favor?"  
  
"Anything," Frank said at once, smiling for the first time in days.  
  
"Don't come back to visit me again." Joe hardened himself as he saw Frank's smile vanish and hurt fill his sad brown eyes. "Tell Mom and Dad I don't want to see them either."   
  
Not giving Frank a chance to say anthing which might weaken his reslove, Joe got up and left the room. He slipped down the hallway and back to the one room he knew he could be alone in, the dormitory where he selpt. He hurried inside before anyone saw him and closed the door, putting a chair beneath the knob so no one could enter. He leaned back against the wall and slid to the floor. Pulling off his shades, he let the tears which had been threatening since he had spoken to Frank, fall freely. Of all the the things he had ever done or been through, hurting Frank had been the hardest.  
  
The knob twisted and someone pushed against the door. "Open up!" shouted a voice Joe recognized as belonging to Ken. Joe hurriedly wiped his eyes and sniffed up. There was a silence on the other side as Joe rose to his feet and put his glasses back on. He reached for the chair just as Ken shoved at the door again. Joe pulled the chair away and Ken crashed through the door and into Joe. They both fell to the floor, Ken on top and Joe on the bottom, the wind knocked out of him.  
  
Ken got up and looked down at Joe with a thoughtful frown. "Your brother left in a hurry," he said.  
  
"So?" Joe demanded beligerently, sitting up.  
  
"I guess he's coming back later," Ken asked.  
  
"If he does, it won't be to see me," Joe practically snarled, knocking Ken's arm out of the way as he offered to help Joe to stand. "I don't need his help and I don't need yours!" Joe shouted angrily.  
  
"What were you doing in here?" Ken asked, watching Joe slowly get to his feet.  
  
"Reading," Joe told him, obviously lying.  
  
"Where's your book?" Ken asked.  
  
"A gremlin must have taken it," Joe answered, staring at Ken through his dark glasses.  
  
Unable to see Joe's eyes but easily reading Joe's body language, Ken hazzarded a guess. "You just had a G-shot," he accused Joe, his eyes narrowed.  
  
"No," Joe replied honestly but making it sound like he was lying.  
  
"You can't lie to me," Ken told Joe. "I've been there. Your brother give it to you?" he demanded.  
  
"Yeah, right," Joe sneered, which for some reason made Ken smile.  
  
"Get out of here," Ken ordered him. Joe started past him but Ken grabbed Joe's arm and pulled him to a stop. "A word of advise kid," Ken breathed in Joe's ear. "Don't ever say you don't need my help."  
  
Joe shrugged off Ken's arm and looked at the six foot two man who weighed in at one hundred and eighty pounds with short, straight brown hair. For the first time Joe noticed Ken's green eyes. Not understanding, but hard and watchful. Joe had no doubt he had just received a threat. 


	3. Chapter Three

Highway from Hell  
  
Chatpter Three  
  
When Frank had left Joe, he was hurt but by the time he arrived home he was boiling mad. Joe had acted like this was his fault. He never would have have let anyone do this to Joe, but then, he hadn't been there to prevent it either, he thought. He slammed his hand against the steering wheel. How was he going to tell his parents Joe didn't want anything to do with any of them anymore? After five minutes, still seething, Frank got out of the van and went inside the house.  
  
"Hi, honey," said his petite, blond-headed, blue-eyed mother as she met him at the front door. "What's wrong?" she demanded, her face losing color as she saw Frank's agitated one.  
  
"Where's Dad?" he asked, not answering her immediately.  
  
"Here," brown-haired, brown-eyed Fenton Hardy said, coming into view. "Easy, Laura," he said to his wife, placing a comforting arm around her shoulders. He looked at Frank quizzically. Frank never spoke so Fenton turned and led Laura back into the living room and sat down on the sofa with her.  
  
Frank came into the living room and sat on the edge of the coffee table in front of his parents. "Joe doesn't want us to visit him anymore," he said over the lump in his throat.  
  
"Why?" whispered Laura, tears falling from her eyes.  
  
Frank shook his head. "I don't know," he replied, still trying to figure that one out himself. "Maybe the heroin has affected his brain," he suggested.  
  
"Or someone at the foundation has," Fenton stated, his eyes hard as steel.  
  
"What?" Frank asked in confusion.  
  
"Your brother's very vulnerable now," Fenton explained. "First he hit this rebellious stage and I had to issue a punishment where the end result was his being hooked on heroin." Frank and Laura interrupted at this point, both insisting he wasn't to blame. Fenton finally held up a hand requesting silence. "It doesn't matter," he continued. "Joe probably thinks I am and that's what counts. If he does feel that way, then all it would have taken is for one person to say something to him about me or any of us and Joe would be ready to sever any ties with us."  
  
"You're wrong," Frank told him. "Something else is going on because Joe would never..."  
  
"But he did," Laura said softly, tears streaming silently down her cheeks. She stood up. "I think I'll go upstairs," she said in a strangled voice.   
  
After she had left the room Frank looked over at his father. "I want to go in," he said.  
  
"What?" Fenton demanded, startled.  
  
"I want to be a patient at the Dulcimer Foundation," Frank explained. "No matter what Joe thinks, he needs us. I am not going to sit here and do nothing while someone turns him against us," he insisted angrily when his father shook his head.  
  
"You're not an addict," Fenton reminded Frank a bit gently because he knew how much Frank was hurting.  
  
"There has to be something I could take to make it look like I was addicted," Frank insisted. "I'm sure of it. Eye drops from the optomitrist and syrup of ipecac if it comes down to it."  
  
Fenton looked at the set expression on Frank's face. "You would have to go in undercover," he said. "No one would believe it, least of all Joe."  
  
"How soon?" Frank demanded.  
  
"Let me call a friend of mine," Fenton said, rising. "Karen Taylor used to work at the rehab foundation," he informed Frank. "She should be able to help us."  
  
  
  
Joe stood in the shadows outside the cafeteria, waiting for Toots. It had been almost nine hours since Frank had left and he had recovered from his laspe of composure. The worst over, Joe was ready for anything. He had to be. Another laspe could be fatal. He heard footsteps and turned to look in the direction of the sound. Toots came into view followed by Ken.  
  
"What is this?" Joe demanded angrily, starting to brush past them.  
  
"Easy Joe," Toots said, laughing as she grabbed his arm. "Ken is my friend," she said in a manner which left Joe in no doubt who her supplier was. Joe looked at Ken with suspicion.  
  
"I take care of my friends," Ken told Joe, smiling. "And I'm sure you and I will be good ones."  
  
"What's in it for you?" Joe asked, looking at the piece of foil Ken held up to him hungrily.   
  
In the past few hours Joe had picked up a lot. He now knew that heroin was melted and placed on foil, called a blob, that was then smoked. He also had found out that a G-shot was a small dose used to hold off withdrawal symptoms until a full dose could be taken.  
  
"When you get outside, you see a friend of mine," Ken answered Joe. "He takes your business."  
  
"Who?" Joe asked, still looking at the blob.  
  
"You'll find out when you need to," Ken said. "Well?" he asked, waving the blob enticingly.  
  
Joe held out his hand for the foil. "Friends," Joe said.  
  
Ken pulled it out of reach. "Where did you get your fix earlier?" he asked.  
  
Joe's blue eyes hardened and he dropped his hand. "Forget it," he snarled. "I don't rat." He started to shove his way past them again, but Ken put a restraining hand on Joe's left shoulder. Joe froze, ready for a rumble if that's what it came down to.  
  
"You just passed," Ken told him, and handed the blob to Joe. Toots was already smoking hers. "Be in your rooms at lights out," Ken ordered Joe and Toots before leaving them alone.  
  
"I feel so much better," Toots purred. "Need some help?" she asked, looking at Joe who hadn't started his yet.  
  
Before Joe could answer a scruffy looking black-haired boy, about nineteen years old, came shuffling down the corridor. He was rubbing his nose as he approached them. "Where's the dormitory?" he demanded hoarsely of the two as he reached them, his blue eyes narrowing as he watched Joe quickly hide something. "What are you two doing?" he demanded.  
  
"The dormitory is the other way," Joe told him, his back up. "Go back down the corridor, take a left and then the fourth right," Joe told him.  
  
He and Toots waited for him to leave but he never. "I'm Tony," he said.  
  
Toots looked at Joe's face which held annoyance and moved over to Tony. "I'll show you," she said sweetly, giving Joe a conspiritorial wink. "I'm Toots. Where you the guy who came in yesterday?" she asked as they walked away.  
  
Joe never heard the reply but gave a sigh of relief as he realized the unwitting Tony had just helped him out of a jam. Now all he needed was a place to get rid of the blob. He waited a few minutes and plastered a dumb smile on his face, similar to the one Toots had and headed for the bathroom. Inside, he rolled the blob up in some toilet paper and flushed it, watching to make sure it went down. Then he headed back toward the dormitory and his bed.  
  
He had made his first real contact and he should be feeling great but instead, his mind kept replaying the look on Frank's face when he had told him to stay away. Joe sat down on his bed and kicked off his shoes. He wanted a shower but the patients here didn't like to clean up much and since he had a shower yesterday afternoon afterhe'd been sick, he felt it wise to hold off at least one more day. Joe lay back on his bed and stared up at the ceiling.  
  
Tony, who had taken the bed next to Joe's, sat up and looked over at Joe. "You and Toots got something going on?" he asked.  
  
"Ain't none of your business either way," Joe retorted.  
  
"Chill man," Tony ordered.  
  
"Leave me alone," Joe told him, turning over so his back was to Tony. Taking the hint, Tony lay back down.  
  
Joe awoke early the next morning and took a shower then put on the same jeans ans dhirt he had worn for the past two days. He had clean clothes which his parents had brought over when he had been admitted, but he didn't want to be out of place so he refused to wear them.  
  
As he was leaving the dormitory, he heard Ken giving Tony down the road for staying in bed. By the time Joe reached the cafeteria, the place was already crowded. Joe took his tray and sat down. He stared at the burnt toast and watery scrambled eggs. He picked up a piece of bacon and bit it in half. By the time he had finished his bacon, Tony had joined him. Joe picked up his spoon and began scraping the black off the bread. He mangled it beyond consumption so he started on the second one but Tony beat him to it.   
  
Tony took Joe's other piece of toast and scraped off the black in a matter of seconds.  
  
"What are you?" Joe demanded angrily. "A leech?" He felt terrible treating Tony this way, but another inmate would never have let Tony get away with it, so he couldn't either.  
  
"I was just trying to help out," Tony defended himself. "My mom always burns the toast."  
  
"Leave - me - a- lone," Joe told him once again, slowly and distinctly. Then he got up, emptied his tray, and left the cafeteria.  
  
Tony followed Joe out of the cafeteria and down the corridor. He slowed down as he saw Ken stop Joe. They spoke and Joe followed Ken into one of the rooms. He crept down and peered around the corner. He watched Ken hand Joe something. Joe thanked Ken and smiled, his eyes brightening at the sight of the thing Ken had given him. Tony hurried away from the door and out of sight as Joe left Ken and headed for the bathroom.  
  
Joe went into the bathroom and after making sure no one was around, he peeled off some toilet paper and wrapped the blob up and dropped it into the toilet. After watching it go down, he turned around and saw Tony staring at him in disbelief. 


	4. Chapter Four

Highway from Hell  
  
Chapter Four  
  
The color drained from Joe's face. He waited to see what Tony would do.  
  
Tony shook his head, as if trying to clear it and then he looked into Joe's eyes and spoke in an unmistakably familiar voice. "You had me scared to death," Tony told him.  
  
"Frank?" Joe inquired, his eyes going wide in shock. "Wh...what are you doing here?"  
  
"Trying to find out what's going on with you," Frank replied, his eyes narrowing. "You've got some major explaining to do," he added.  
  
"Yeah," Joe admitted, giving the first real smile he had in days. "I do. But not here," he added, his face clouding over again. "Meet me at the swings in say, an hour and a half?"  
  
"Why so long?" Frank asked suspiciously.  
  
"I was supposed to have smoked that," Joe told him, glancing over at the toilet where the evidence had vanished. "Sunlight and heroin doesn't really mix," he added.  
  
Frank nodded and turned to leave but paused and turned back around. "Are you really okay?" he asked, concern evident.   
  
"Yeah," Joe told him. "I didn't have time to get addicted."  
  
"But..." Frank started to say but Joe cut him off.  
  
"At the swings," Joe hissed, and brushed by Frank and left the bathroom. Frank waited a few minutes, then left. He entered the recreation room and took a seat in front of the television.   
  
"Hey," a drab voice said to his right. Frank looked over at the scrawny kid next to him. He was wearing sunglasses on his sunken face and his long blond hair looked like it hadn't been brushed in days. He was wearing faded blue jeans and a light, long-sleeved, beige shirt with the sleeves buttoned.   
  
"Hi," Frank said.  
  
"I'm Cory," the boy introduced himself. "You're Tony, right?" he asked. Frank nodded. "You made it through being sick awfully fast," he commented.  
  
Frank shook his head. "Not really," he said. "I tried to do it at home. My dad's a doctor," he lied. "But it got too rough so I asked to come here."  
  
Cory grinned. "I knew you were like me," he said.  
  
"Huh?" Frank asked, confused.  
  
"Most of the kids here are here because they had no choice so they aren't trying. I actually want off," he paused. When he spoke again, his voice cracked a little. "I got my kid brother hooked," he said. "I didn't mean to. It just felt so good to shoot up and get away from everything so I talked Tim into trying it. He was on it for about two months. A week ago, I went home and found him on my bed. He had OD'ed. That's when it hit me. I didn't want to die. I thought about me and then, as I started hitting the agonies, I thought about Tim. It was all my fault. He shouldn't have died."  
  
Frank didn't know what to say. He imagined being in Cory's place and Joe in Tim's. His heart constricted in horror, but still, he said nothing.  
  
"You picked the wrong guy to try and be friends with," Cory told him. "Joe's not in here because he wants to be," he added. "He's been getting G-shots from someone. I know Toots hooked him up before she left."  
  
"So his supplier is gone," Franks said with a shrug. "Now he'll have to get clean."  
  
"No," Cory denied. "He's still getting it, which makes him just as bad as his supplier. Stay away from him," Cory said feverently. "He'll drag you back in."  
  
Frank stayed and talked to Cory for a bit then excused himself and went outside to the swings. Joe arrived a few minutes later.  
  
"Spill it," Frank ordered as Joe sat down. So Joe told him about hearing Con in the hospital, convincing the doctor to help him and about everything that had happened since, ending wih Ken's role as his supplier.  
  
Frank looked at Joe with disbelief. "You actually were going to do this without me," he said, fighting to keep his voice low.  
  
"I'm sorry," Joeapologized. "I had an instant in and you didn't," he explained. "No one would believe either of us getting hooked if it hadn't been for my being kidnapped." He paused and took in Frank's appearance. "You really look bad," Joe said. "How did you do it?"  
  
Frank explained about his make-over and crash course in being a junkie under the tutalage of Karen Taylor, a friend of their father's.  
  
"Are they very mad?" Joe asked, thinking of his parents.   
  
"Just worried," Frank replied, knowing what was going through Joe's mind. "We all thought you were hooked."  
  
"We had better go back in," Joe said, standing up. He wasn't sure what to say, so he decided to avoid the subject for the time being.  
  
"When do you get to meet Ken's supplier?" Frank asked, staying still and watching Joe wrap his arms around himself. Frank thought Joe looked as vulnerable now as he had when he had to be in the hospital and have his tonsils removed when he was six. Frank remembered Joe wanting him to stay, but the doctor had said he wasn't allowed. Joe had wrapped his arms around himself as he sat in the hospital bed and rocked himself, his blue eyes wide and fearful.  
  
"Not until I get out," Joe replied. 'Tuesday, I think," he added. "When are you leaving?"  
  
"Wedensday," Frank answered, before Joe put his arms down by his sides and turned and headed back inside.  
  
At lunch, Joe brought his tray over to sit beside Frank but Cory, who was on Fran's other side, wasn't going to allow it. "Get out of here," Cory snarled at Joe. "We don't want you here."  
  
"Why don't we let Tony decide?" Joe asked in a saccharin sweet voice.  
  
"His decision was made before he got here," Cory retorted. "Take a hike or pay the price," he threatened Joe.  
  
Joe's eyes narrowed as he looked at Cory. Inside he was jumping up and down, glad to have someone looking out for his brother, but his upper lip curled into a sneer as he said, "Easy, man, I didn't mean to hit on your," he paused and looked at Frank, "girl." The table erupted into laughter and Joe was callled down to sit between two other bedbugs, both with dark brown hair and big grins on their faces.  
  
"That kid so deserves everything he's going to get," Cory whispered angrily.  
  
"What do you mean?" Frank asked, wondering what Cory had in mind.  
  
"Never mind," Cory told Frank with a smile that never reached his eyes. "Figure of speech."  
  
After lights out, Frank told Joe what Cory had said. "Be careful," he warned Joe, a worried look on his face. "I don't think he's too stable."  
  
"You mean he might take his anger at himself for getting his brother hooked out on me?" Joe asked thoughtfully. "Makes sense, I guess."  
  
"Did Ken give you anymore?" Frank inquired.  
  
"Yeah," Joe admitted. "Morning and night," he said. "I tried to get him to talk but he won't. I'm afraid to push too hard in case he gets suspicious," he added.  
  
"You know, Ken's supplier may not be the same one who gave Davenport and his men the drugs," Frank told Joe.  
  
"I thought about that," Joe said. "At first, I wanted revenge for what they did to me and for Kenny and his son," Joe admitted. "But after seeing all these kids and finding out that one of the guys who is supposed to be helping is causing more damage," he paused and turned over on his side to look at Frank. "I just want this place cleaned up. These kids need somewhere they can get help and with Ken around, it's not going to happen. Toots is only sixteen and Mikey, that little red-haired, freckle-faced kid, is only twelve." He stopped talking and shook his head. "I just wish I could let mom and dad know how much I love them and appreciate everything they've done for me."  
  
Frank looked over and saw Joe's eyes were bright with unshed tears. Before he could speak, Joe continued. "And you," Joe told him. "You have got to be the best brother a guy could have."  
  
"Aw, cut the mushy stuff," Frank said. But he reached over and gave Joe's shoulder a gentle squeeze. "I love you too little brother," he told him. "And mom and dad know you love them," he assured Joe. "But if it will make you feel better, I'll pass it on when Dad comes to visit me in the morning."  
  
"You're going to tell him what I did," Joe said, dreading going home for the first time since he had left it.  
  
"Don't worry," Frank comforted Joe. "He'll understand. He may not approve," he amended, "but he'll understand."  
  
"I hope so," Joe replied, yawning. Minutes later, he and Frank were sound asleep.  
  
Joe awoke with a start. A hand was held over his mouth preventing him from shouting. He looked up and saw Ken standing over him with one finger pressed to his lips. Ken released Joe's mouth. Motioning for Joe to follow him, Ken backed up. Joe pushed the sheet over, causing it to fall halfway into the floor. He stood up and followed Ken silently from the room and out into the corridor into another room which was Ken's office. Ken closed the door behind Joe and motioned for him to sit down. Joe sat in a cold metal chair in front of Ken's desk.  
  
"How are you feeling?" Ken asked Joe, watching him intently.  
  
"Kay," Joe mumbled, pretending to be half asleep although by now he was fully alert.  
  
"Good, good," Ken replied. "I've been watching you," he continued. "You circulate pretty well with the other kids." Joe shrugged. "How would you like your fixes for free?" he asked. "Maybe some more money on the side?"  
  
"How?" Joe asked.  
  
"Work for me," Ken replied.  
  
"My dad's a detective," Joe told him honestly, sure Ken already knew.  
  
"I know," Ken said, leaning back in his chair and smiling. "And I know it will be hard for you to get a new supplier," he added shrewdly. "What I would like to know is how close are you and your father?"  
  
Joe snorted and laughed sourly. "You kidding? He's a busy man. When has he ever had time to get close to me?"  
  
"Miss a male figure in your life?" Ken asked.  
  
Joe seemed to think this remark over, then shook his head. "Not really," he said. "Frank always took the role," he added a bit snidely.  
  
"You don't sound like you approve," Ken observed.  
  
"He's only a year older but he's always telling me what I can and can't do," Joe complained. ""Sometimes, I wish I didn't have a brother."  
  
"So don't," Ken said.  
  
"Huh?" Joe asked, a knot in his stomach. Had he said too much.  
  
"You're seventeen," Ken stated. "Almost legal. You could runaway from home," Ken suggested.  
  
Joe appeared to consider this. "But I don't want to live in the streets," Joe said after a bit.  
  
"You can stay at the house of a friend of mine," Ken told him.  
  
"What's the catch?" Joe demanded suspiciouslly, scratching his arm unconsciously.  
  
"Work for me," Ken said. "You get a place to stay, spending money, and," he added, leaning forward and pulling open his desk drawer and removing a piece of foil with heroin on it and placing it on his desk, "you'll never be in need of a fix again."  
  
Joe looked at the blob, his breathing growing heavier as if he had a strong urge for a fix. He reached out to take it, but Ken grabbed Joe's hand and held it. "Well?" Ken demanded.  
  
Joe looked up into Ken's eyes and nodded. "Okay," he said. Ken released Joe's hand and let him take the blob.  
  
"Go back to bed as soon as you can," Ken ordered him. "I'll make your housing arrangements in the next day or two so you won't even have to go back for a last visit."  
  
Joe gave a lopsided smile and stood up taking the blob with him. He left Ken's office and closed the door behind him, thinking it was a good thing G-shots were only partial fixes or Ken would have tried to kill him with an overdose. Twenty minutes later, Joe left the bathroom and returned to bed.  
  
"You okay?" Frank asked. He had woken up when Joe returned.  
  
"Yeah," Joe replied. "But we have got to talk before you see Dad," he added, yawning. "Ken wants me to leave home," he said before falling sleep.  
  
Frank lay awake the rest of the night, unable to sleep after the bombshell Joe had just dropped on him.  
  
"Up and at'em boys!" came the wake-up call early the next morning. Frank sat up, his face drawn and looked over at Joe who sat up slowly.  
  
"In the shower," Frank whispered as he got up and left the room. Joe followed a few minutes later. When Joe arrived at the showers, there were only four, besides himself and Frank, who felt like taking one. He and Frank slowly undressed, giving the others time to leave before stepping into connecting stalls.  
  
Joe told Frank about his midnight meeting with Ken. "I'm going to need some drops to keep my eyes dilated," he told Frank, when he had finished.  
  
"No way," Frank hissed. "You are not going that deep undercover. It's too dangerous."  
  
"It's perfect," Joe argued. "He knows who I am and wants me anyway," he pointed out. "We could put him and his suppliers out of business."  
  
"It's not worth the risk," Frank almost shouted.  
  
"I think it is," Joe insisted, turning off the water and wrapping a towel around his waist. He left the stall and put his clothes on then headed out, ignoring Frank's attempts to lure him back into the argument.  
  
Frank next saw Joe at breakfast. He started over to sit with him, but Cory caught his arm as he walked by and pulled him into the chair beside him. "Control the cravings, kid. Don't let them control you," Cory told him, watching him look at Joe. "I told you, that one is bad news. Stay away."  
  
Frank nodded and started eating his breakfast casting furitive glances at Joe who seemed to have lost his appetite. A few minutes later, he watched as Joe carried his tray to the trash can an emptied it. Setting the tray on the counter, he left the cafeteria.  
  
Frank stood up and disposed of his food and tray and followed Joe out. He was heading down the corridor after him when Ken came up to him. "Tony, your dad's here," he said. Frank nodded and went to meet his father.  
  
Joe reached the rec room and flipped the television on. He sat down on the sofa and started watching a talk show. He heard someone come in but resisted the urge to see who it was. A moment later, an arm curled around his neck and a hand was clamped over his mouth. He brought up an arm to move it away, but as he did, a needle pierced the inside of his elbow. Seconds passed and Joe's eyes rolled back into his head; his breathing began to slow down and he slumped on the arm holding him. When the arm was removed, Joe fell sideways on the sofa and lay there. 


	5. Chapter Five

Highway from Hell  
  
Chapter Five  
  
Frank left the common room almost two hours later. He wanted to find Joe and tell him their dad had forbidden him to accept Ken's offer. He headed toward the rec room to look for Joe. Upon his arrival, he saw several kids with their eyes glued to the television and a couple more shooting pool. There were a few others around, but he didn't see Joe anywhere. He turned to leave and walked into Cory who was just coming in.   
  
"Hey," Cory said with a smile. "I was looking for you."  
  
"My dad dropped by," Frank told him.  
  
"Bet he's happy," Cory said. "You are looking better."  
  
"Yeah," Frank agreed. "You clean up okay too."  
  
"Thanks man," Cory replied. "Let's get some fresh air," he suggested.  
  
Doubting Joe would be outside, Frank declined the offer. "I just want to chill," he said, looking at the three guys who had just come in.  
  
"You're not looking for that blond kid, are you?" Cory demanded angrily.  
  
"Yeah," Frank replied honestly. "I think he needs a friend."  
  
"He was a junkie!" Cory snapped. "The only thing he ever needed was a fix."  
  
Frank looked at Cory suspiciously. A burning senstaion in the pit of his stomach. He forced his suddenly dry mouth to ask, "What do you mean was a junkie? You said he was still using."  
  
"He was," Cory replied, his blue eyes sincere. "He OD'ed this morning. Mikey found him lying on the sofa."  
  
Frank paled visibly and brushed past Cory, running as fast as he could toward the hospital wing. He never stopped until he reached the entrance where he paused to catch his breath. He entered the door and asked the first person he saw where Joe was.  
  
"You can't be in here," the red-haired Nurse Reddy informed Frank, not answering him.   
  
"I need to see Joe," Frank insisted, scared out of his wits.  
  
"Why?" she inquired.  
  
"He's my.. my friend," he said, almost giving away his cover.  
  
Nurse Reddy took in Frank's terrified expression and her brown eyes softened a bit. "He can't have visitors," she told him. "He needs quiet. He will probably be back in the dormitory by tomorrow," she added.  
  
"Was this a delayed withdrawal reaction?" he inquired.  
  
Nurse Reddy shook her head, her red hair moving stiffly as if drenched in hair spray. "No," she stated firmly. "He managed to get some heroin and took too much." She took Frank's arm and led him back to the door. "I'm sorry, but you really can't be in here."  
  
Frank left the area but came back a few minutes later. Nurse Reddy had gone but another nurse had taken her place. Frank ground his teeth in frustration and left. He didn't feel like being around anyone so he headed back to the dormitory, passing Ken's office on the way. He paused outside as he heard Ken talking to someone on the phone. His blood ran cold and his nails bit into his palms as Ken spoke.  
  
"Joe Hardy died of an overdose," Ken was saying. "A tragedy," he added, smiling.  
  
Ken obviously didn't hang around to make sure Joe had died, Frank thought, fuming as he moved away and entered the dormitory. He sank down on his bed and buried his head in his hands.   
  
'Why was this happening?' he thought. 'Would this terrible nightmare never end?'  
  
"This area is off limits during the day," Ken said from the doorway, interrupting Frank's troubled thoughts.  
  
Frank looked up. It took every ounce of self-control he possesed not to run over and wrap his hands around Ken's neck. "I'm not feeling well," he said honestly.  
  
"Then see a nurse," Ken ordered with no pity. "Out!"  
  
Frank bit back the retort which sprang to his lips and stood up. He walked slowly to the door, staring Ken in the eyes. Frank's dilated eyes were filled with hatred and determination. He stared until Ken stepped aside. "Don't let me catch you back in here," Ken called out when Frank was several yards away.  
  
Not daring to make a reply, Frank kept walking as if he hadn't heard. He met Cory outside on the swings.  
  
"You don't look so good," Cory observed as Frank sat down and put on his sunglasses.  
  
"I'm fine," Frank lied. "I just want out of this place," he added, pushing off.  
  
Less than an hour later, Frank was still swinging high. He had been trying to get rid of his anger by keeping up the rhythm, but it was no good. Cory had gone inside over thirty minues ago and Frank had allowed himself the freedom to cry until his tears had dried up. He had to see Joe but still hadn't figured out a way to do it.  
  
"Tony Davis!" a voice shouted, breaking through Frank's reverie. "Your dad's here!"  
  
Frank slowed down and jumped off, leaving the swing to stop on it's own. He came inside and went to the common room. His dad was there, still wearing the disguise he had worn when he had visited earlier. "Joe..." Frank began but his dad grabbed him and pulled him into his arms and gave him a hard hug.  
  
"I know," Fenton said in a soft raspy voice. He pulled back and looked at Frank, his eyes bloodshot from crying all the way to the foundation from the Hardy home. "Laura told me when I got home," he said. "Joe was murdered this morning."  
  
"No," Frank replied, a confused look upon his face. "He went into a coma but he's not dead," he informed his father who looked torn between shock and joy. "Who said he was?"  
  
"I don't know," Fenton replied. "Your mother answered the phone. I came to get you out of here as soon as she told me."  
  
"I can't leave now," Frank told him. "If someone tried to kill Joe, then we have to find out who and why." He looked up at his father, a thoughful expression on his face. "It must have been Ken who called and said Joe was dead," he said. "After you left, I went to find Joe. After Nurse Reddy told me I couldn't see him, I went back to the dormitory and heard Ken telling someone Joe had died. I thought he was the one who had tried to kill him and hadn't found out he had failed. But..."  
  
"But he was probably arranging for Joe to go live with his friend," Fenton finished for Frank.  
  
"I wonder what he plans on doing when you and mom show up for his body," Frank commented.  
  
"Let's find out, shall we?" Fenton asked. "Are you sure you will be okay in here?" he asked Frank.  
  
"I'm sure," Frank said. "I can't leave Joe alone. Especially not now," he added.  
  
Fenton left the foundation and returned home. He told Laura that Joe was still alive and then filled her in on what Frank and Joe had been doing. "And now we need to go and see what happens when we go for Joe's body," he added.  
  
Laura had started upstairs to change when the phone rang. Fenton answered it after the second ring. His face clouded over as he listened. "I see," he said. "No, we did not want our son cremated," he responded to a question, then listened for a moment more before hanging up.  
  
Laura looked down at Fenton from the third stair. "That takes care of that," he told her. "Ken claims the body has been cremated. We're to pick up his ashes at the Feldham Funeral Home." He thought for a moment, remembering the conversation he had with Frank. Frank had never actually gotten in to see Joe. What if the nurse had lied and Joe were really dead? There was only one way to be sure. "I'm going to the funeral home," he decided. "Then I'm going to take the ashes to Forensics at the police station," he informed Laura, turning from her and heading for the door.  
  
"Wait!" Laura shouted at her troubled husband. He turned and looked expectanly at her. "You better get out of your disguise," she said, reminding him he was still dressed as Tony's dad.  
  
  
  
"They are human ashes," Officer Perkins informed Fenton later that evening. Fenton turned a deathly shade of white, but his face quickly regained it's color when Officer Perkins continued. "But I can tell you that whoever these ashes belong to was cremated three days ago."  
  
"Thank you," Fenton replied, his voice hoarse with relief and went upstairs to talk with Chief Collig.  
  
  
  
At the foundation, Frank hardly touched his dinner and was immensely relieved when bedtime arrived. He crept out of the dormitory and down to the hospital wing. Just as he had hoped, security was more lax at night and he had little trouble sneaking in. Making sure no one was around, he checked the board for Joe's room. According to the board, Joe had been discharged into his parents care earlier. Frank quietly picked up the phone and called home. Fenton was at home and answered. He told Frank about the ashes and Frank told his dad about Joe's alleged dismissal. Hearing someone coming, Frank said bye and hung up. He hid beneath the desk as someone walked by then hurried back to the dormitory wondering who had tried to kill Joe. But the problem he was overwhelmed by was where was Joe? Would he ever see him again? 


	6. Chapter Six

Highway from Hell  
  
Chapter Six  
  
Joe awoke slowly, his head pounding, his eyes heavy and his chest hurting. He forced his eyes open and found himself lying on a twin bed in a dark room witht he shade pulled down on the window. He sat up slowly, his stomach starting to bubble. He saw a waste can lined with a grocery bag by the bed and had barely taken hold of it before he started hurling.  
  
Someone in the next room must have heard him becasue the bedroom door opened and a large muscular man came inside. He took one look at Joe and left the room. When he returned, he held a wet washcloth and a can of cola. He waited until Joe had finished retching, then gave him the cloth and cola and left with the waste can. He returned a few moments later with the waste can freshly relined. Joe had sank back onto the bed almost as soon as he had finished throwing up, taking one sip of cola before setting it on the nightstand. Now he lay there with the wet cloth over his eyes.  
  
"Hi Joe," he heard the deep baritone of his host. Joe moved the cloth and looked at the man. He had long wavy brown hair which had been put back into a pony tail. His muscles rippled beneath the skin-tight pale yellow tee shirt he wore, and he was staring down at Joe with pale blue eyes. "You've been out for three days," the man said.  
  
"Who..." Joe swallowed, his mouth not seeming to work properly. "Who are you?" he finally managed to ask in a hoarse whisper.  
  
"I'm Trey," he told Joe, sitting his six foot frame down on the bed by Joe's legs. "I'm a friend of Ken's," he introduced himself.  
  
Joe gave a slight nod, a wave of nausea threatening to erupt again. "What happened?" he asked. "How did I get here?"  
  
"After you OD'ed, Ken decided to make it easy on you," Trey told him. "Now your folks won't bother looking for you because they think you are dead."  
  
"What?" Joe demanded in disbelief. "How did he pull that off?"  
  
"Ken told them you were dead and then got a guy at the funeral home who owed him a favor to give your folks someone's ashes and tell them they were yours," Trey explained.   
  
"Cool," Joe said, although he now felt sicker than ever inside.  
  
"I'll let you get some rest," Trey said. "If you need anything just yell," he added, standing up.  
  
"Where..." Joe started to ask where he was but Trey cut him off.  
  
"Where's your fix?" Trey guessed at what Joe wanted to ask. "No worries," he assured Joe. "I'll bring you a fix. But," he added, looking at Joe with a stern expression,"no more backjack." Joe recognized the term which meant injecting the heroin. "From now on, you only get it one way. Agreed?"  
  
"Agreed," Joe managed to say before once more making a grab for the waste can.  
  
Frank sat at home, restlessly drumming his fingers on the end table beside him. He had been released from the foundation that morning with no idea of who had tried to kill Joe. And no one had heard from Joe in three days. He quit drumming his fingers and picked up a magazine from the table. He opened it and turned two pages then tossed it back onto the table. He was waiting for his father to come downstairs and tell him what he had learned from the DEA.  
  
The doorbell rang, interrupting his thoughts, and he went to answer it. Standing there were two of his best friends. Plump, blond, seventeen year old Chet Morton and blond, beefy, eighteen year old Biff Hooper. "Hi," Frank said, moving aside to let them come in.  
  
"Well, where's Joe?" Chet demanded. The last Biff and Chet had heard, Joe was admitted to the foundation and was supposed to have been released yesterday.  
  
Frank sighed, his face covered in worry. "You guys better take a seat," he said. He then told them everything which had happened since Joe's rescue from his kidnappers.  
  
"So, how can we help?" Chet asked, his brown eyes filled with concern.  
  
"You can't," Frank told him. "This is way too dangerous."  
  
"We know how dangerous it is," Biff said quietly from his chair. "But we also know if it were one of us in trouble, nothing would stop you or Joe from helping us. Granted," he continued, "we don't have the skills or experience you and Joe possess, but we have helped you two enough to know what we're doing."  
  
"But..." Frank started to argue, but couldn't get another word in.  
  
"But nothing!" Biff shouted at Frank. "Joe is one of my best friends!"  
  
"And mine!" put in Chet.  
  
"And we are going to help," Biff finished.  
  
"Not this time," Frank insisted. "Your parents would never allow it."  
  
Chet frowned. His sister, Iola, had been killed when a terrorist had planted a bomb in Frank's and Joe's car. He swallowed and looked Frank in the eyes. "I'll make them," he vowed.  
  
Fenton came downstairs in time to catch Chet's last words. "Make who what?" he asked.  
  
"Chet and Biff want to help," Frank told his father.  
  
Fenton shook his head. "Not..." he began, but Biff cut him off.  
  
"Frank's already read us the lecture, Sir," Biff told him. "If we can get our parents to agree, will you let us help?"  
  
Fenton looked at Frank and then at Chet's and Biff's determined faces. "All right," he said finally. "But I get to speak with your parents."  
  
"Agreed," Biff and Chet said at the same time.  
  
"Let me fill you in before you call your parents because I have a lead I need to follow up on Ken," Fenton said, sitting down in a chair. The three boys took seats and listened to what he had to say.  
  
"Ken lives in the Rolling Hills district, but when he was an addict, he hung out on Gragg Street. I've rented you apartment 219 in the Sullivan Apartment Complex on Gragg Street. It's a rough neighborhood, so you have to stay on guard at all times," Fenton warned.  
  
"Frank, you're going in as Tony," he continued. "When you got home, you caved in and started using again and your father kicked you out." He looked at Frank and his expression softened a little. "Get some rest," he ordered. "I'll be back with your key and some cash for you. Until then, stay here. This may be your only chance for any real rest until we get Joe back."  
  
Frank nodded as Fenton stood up. "Chet, Biff," Fenton said to them and they looked at him expectantly. "If you change your minds, no one will blame you. This is a very dangerous case. Several people have already died and there is a vast fortune at stake to these men."  
  
"Not to mention the lives of the kids they are destroying," Biff replied. "I'm in," he insisted.  
  
"Me too," Chet affirmed.  
  
After Fenton had left, Chet looked over at Biff. "Are you sure your folks will let you?" he asked.  
  
"My brother died of an overdose three years ago," Biff reminded Chet. "Dad would pretty much do anything to get even one dealer out of business."  
  
Chet and Biff left the Hardy home to go and talk to their parents. Frank went upstairs to his room pausing at the doorway of his parents' room. His mother was lying on her side, propped up on one elbow, and looking at a photo album. He couls see pictures of Joe and himself when they were uounger as she turned a page. Her eyes were red, but dry. Not wanting to set her off crying again, he went on down the hall to his room.   
  
He tried to rest, but his thoughts kept returning to Joe. He got up and went into Joe's room. His mother had cleaned the place up and the bed had been made. Even Joe's comics were stacked neatly on his desk. Frank grinned, knowing the neatness would disappear a few minutes after Joe got home. Frank sat down on Joe's bed and picked up the top comic. He flipped a couple of pages and lay back on the bed, wondering how Joe could get so excited about a guy who could shoot webs. Soon, he was fast asleep.  
  
Joe walked into the living room after having slept fitfully for a couple of hours. His bloodshot eyes were fully dilated again and he had put on a pair of sunglasses which had been lying on a chest in the bedroom.  
  
The living room was packed. There were two guys sitting on the couch smoking a joint. The smell of burnt rope assaulted Joe's nostrils as he closed the bedroom door behind him. He looked around for Trey or Ken, but neither came into view. To his left were three guys and two girls talking, each holding a beer. On his right was a guy sitting at the bar, a coffee straw in hand and white powder, cocaine, Joe thought, in front of him. The guy put the straw to his nostril and bent over the powder.   
  
Joe walked, a bit unsteadily, toward the entry to the kitchen but before he reached it, a hand grabbed his arm and spun him around. The glasses went flying off his face and bounced into the kitchen as the tip of a switchblade was laid against the base of his throat.   
  
"Joe Hardy," snarled the drunken man. His face was covered in a couple day's growth of beard and his black hair was oily and in need of a wash.   
  
"That's me," Joe said calmly.  
  
"You're dead," the drunk stated as his wrist holding the knife jerked. 


	7. Chapter Seven

Highway from Hell  
  
Chapter Seven  
  
A hand reached through the kitchen and grabbed the hand holding the knife before Joe's skin was broken. "Cool off Dawson," Trey warned softly, removing the knife from Dawson's hand.  
  
"He's Hardy's kid!" Dawson complained in outrage.  
  
"Not anymore," Trey stated. "Now, he's mine. As far as the Hardy's are concerned, Joe died of an overdose while in rehab."  
  
"Huh?" Dawson demanded, looking at Joe in confusion. A few of the other party goers were also demanding an explanation. Joe looked at Trey, swaying a bit.  
  
Trey picked up something and handed it to Joe who snatched it from Trey's hand, then swaggered back to the bedroom and closed the door, leaving Trey to deal with his guests.  
  
Joe sat on the bed and looked at the specially formed "cigarette." It looked incredibly messy and he screwed up his nose as he thought about how much trouble he had gotten into. He sighed miserably as he considered sneaking out and going home. He was never going to be able to keep up the charade. He stood up, but fell back down immediately and reached for the waste can. As he retched, he realized that for the time being, he was stuck. A few minutes later, he took his fix and headed into the bathroom, where he wrapped it in toilet paper and flushed it down the toilet.  
  
The next morning, Joe awoke feeling much better. He got out of bed and put on his clothes. When he went into the living room, he saw Trey already awake and lifting weights in the corner. When he saw Joe, he eased the weights back up onto their bar and sat up. "How you feeling?" he asked.  
  
"Better," Joe replied, standing still and looking at Trey warily.  
  
"Go grab some cereal," Trey told him. "I'll see about getting you some fresh clothes. After you've had a shower, I'll take you out and introduce you around. No one will try what Dawson did after today," he promised Joe.  
  
Joe nodded and walked into the kitchen. On the counter were two boxes of cereal and some bananas. Joe scrounged around for a bowl and spoon then poured some flakes into the bowl. He cut a banana into pieces with his spoon, then went to the refrigerator  
  
and took out some milk and a carton of orange juice. He poured the milk over his cereal and grabbed a glass and filled it with OJ before returning the milk and rest of the OJ to the fridge. He ate his breakfast and dropped the empty bowl, spoon and glass into the sink, then went back into the living room.  
  
Trey handed Joe a box as he sat down. "That should be enough to last you a week," he told Joe, who opened the box and saw a bag of powder, some foil and a small glass vial. "Do you know how to prepare it for smoking?" Trey asked. Joe nodded.  
  
"Okay then," Trey said. "Go take care of yourself. We'll leave in an hour and a half," he added, looking at his watch. "I put some clean clothes on your bed," he added.  
  
Joe stood up and started toward the bedroom, but paused in mid-step and turned around to look at Trey. "Ken mentioned me working for you," Joe said. "What do I have to do?"  
  
"We'll discuss it tomorrow, Kiddo," Trey said, smiling patiently. "Today, you just get the feel of the neighborhood." Joe looked at Trey uncertainly, but finally nodded his agreement before turning around and leaving the living room.  
  
Joe closed the bedroom door and leaned against it. He closed his eyes, fear and doubt crowding his mind once again. He heaved a worried sigh and opened his eyes, looking at the cigar box in his hand which held the source of his present problem. Knowing Trey would probably be spying on him and checking to see that he really was as pathetic as he seemed to be, he opened the box and put a bit of powder into the glass vial. He laid a piece of foil on the chest and held the vial up, shaking it to even the powder out. Then he took the lighter and flicked it on, holding the glass vial over the flame.  
  
The door opened and Trey walked in, two towels on his arm. He smiled as he saw Joe preparing his fix. "Sorry," Trey said. "I forgot your towels." He set them on the bed and left, closing the door firmly behind him.  
  
Joe smiled, relaxing a bit, sure his first trial of the day had passed. He finished heating the mixture, careful not to let the mixture turn to liquid. He poured the gelatinous mixture on the foil and looked at his first blob. He wrinkled his nose in distaste and picked up the foil.   
  
Snatching up the towels, he walked into the bathroom and put the towels on the hamper. He rolled the ends of the foil together, wrapped it in toilet paper and dropped it in the toilet. He slowly undressed after first closing and locking the bathroom door, then flushed the toilet. He brushed his teeth, then turned on the water in the shower and stepped into the spray. Several minutes later, he turned off the water, got out and toweled off. He returned to the bedroom and started putting on the clothes Trey had left.  
  
He pulled the blue jeans on but they were so tight, he ended up lying back on the bed and sucking in his gut before he could get the zipper pulled up and the button closed. He sat up and picked up a yellow tee shirt and pulled it on. Looking down he saw he was wearing a smiley face which had been printed with a sardonic expression. Joe smirked because he actually liked the shirt, wishing he had one at home like it.  
  
He retrieved his sunglasses from the nightstand and put them on then went into the living room where Trey was waiting. Once there, Trey handed him a pair of shoes and socks. Joe sat down on the sofa and put them on and then they were ready to leave.  
  
They left the apartment, going downstairs, passing a large red headed, freckled youth going up the stairs, carrying a box of clothes and puffing heavily. A few feet behind him was a brown-headed young man wearing a black muscle tee and sporting a healthy tan. He nodded curtly to Trey and Joe as they passed, and continued his climb up the stairs, toting a nineteen inch television.  
  
Trey led Joe outside and into the first building on their right. "We're going to work our way all the way around the street," Trey informed Joe, putting a hand on his shoulder as they entered the building.  
  
The place turned out to be a diner. There were nine customers in the place and two waitresses. A bearded, balding man could be seen over the counter, frying up burgers.  
  
All talking stopped when they went inside. Although in a bad part of town, they were still in Bayport where Joe and Frank were well known as detectives in their own right.  
  
One of the customers stood up. He was a sleazy looking individual with oily black hair and a black mustache. His brown eyes were full of suspicion as they looked at Joe. He picked up his half empty cup of coffee and spit into it, his mouth black from chewing tobacco. "What's he doing here?" he demanded of Trey, his eyes never leaving Joe.  
  
"I'd like you to meet my new," he paused, searching for a word which would imply hands off, "companion. Joe, this is Danny. The guy at the first table is Billy and the guys at the next table, left to right, are Tony, Jeff, Peter and Mike. At the last table is Steve, Kurt, and Matt. Jenny and Stacey are the waitresses and Ludo is the cook."  
  
Ludo lifted a spatula in greeting, not even turning to look at Joe. "Jenny, Stacey," Trey spoke to the girls, "anything Joe wants goes on my tab."  
  
"Sure thing," Jenny said, coming over to them. "Hi Joe. Welcome to the neighborhood." Joe nodded at her.  
  
"Are you all crazy?" Danny demanded angrily. "He's a dick! Give him half a chance and he'll stick us all behind bars," he added, glaring at Trey for bringing Joe into the diner.  
  
"Chill," Trey ordered. "Joe has," he paused for effect, "changed. He's working for me now. Spread the word," he added to everyone. "Joe gets left alone."  
  
"But..." Danny started, but his mouth snapped shut, his eyes widening as Trey pulled out his automatic and placed the barrel between Danny's eyes.   
  
"But?" Trey asked calmly.  
  
Danny swallowed nervously. "But welcome to Gragg Street," he whispered to Joe. Joe stared at Danny from behind his shades, his expression having never altered since his entrance into the diner.  
  
Trey put his gun back in his holster and pulled his windbreaker together at the front. "We've got other places to go," Trey said, looking down into Jenny's green eyes and smiling tenderly. He took a hand and touched her cheek, kissing her lips before pulling back and taking Joe's arm in his hand.   
  
"Let's go Kiddo," Trey said. Trey and Joe spent the entire morning going from one place to the next. The reception they received varied little from the one they had gotten at the diner. Joe caught Danny staring at him a couple of times. Danny had gone outside to lean against the building. Joe didn't think Danny would try anything in front of Trey, he and most of Gragg Street seemed to be afraid of him, but Joe had no doubt that if Danny got the chance, he would kill him in a heartbeat.  
  
By two o'clock, they were back where they had started. They had lunch in the diner and Trey took off with Jenny, who had just finished her shift, after he had finished eating.  
  
Joe left the diner alone and went back to the apartment complex. He was starting up the stairs when a strong arm attached itself to the back of Joe's neck and another latched onto the upper part of Joe's right arm. "Keep going," a rough voice whispered in Joe's ear. 


	8. Chapter Eight

Highway from Hell  
  
Chapter Eight  
  
"Where's your shadow?" the voice asked, sounding strangely familiar now. Joe glanced out the side of his glasses and saw the brown-headed, muscular guy they had passed earlier.  
  
"Biff?" Joe gasped in surprise.  
  
"Yeah," Biff whispered, releasing Joe's neck but steering him toward his apartment by the arm. "My name's Blane," he said loudly. "My buddies and I just moved in," he continued. "Come on inside and meet them."  
  
Joe didn't see anyone listening or watching but played along anyway. "I'm new here too," he said. "My name is Joe."  
  
They went inside the apartment and Biff closed the door, locking it behind him. Frank jumped up from the chair he had been sitting on and ran over to give Joe a big hug which Joe returned.  
  
"I have never been so glad to see anyone in my life," Joe said.  
  
Chet came in from the kitchen, munching a granola bar. "Chet?" Joe guessed, lifting an eyebrow in question.  
  
Chet grinned and nodded, then came over and gave Joe a hug too. "We've been worried about you buddy," he said, releasing him and stepping back.  
  
Joe heaved a weary sigh as he walked over and sank down on the couch. "I've been worried about me too," he admitted. Frank, Biff, and Chet sat down and Joe told them what had been going on since he had awoken in Trey's apartment.  
  
Frank filled Joe in about the ashes. "Dad knows who Ken's friend is, but he's not going to bust him until you're out of this," he ended.  
  
"Well, pal," Chet said. "This is your show. What do you want us to do?"  
  
Joe winced and took off his glasses. "You're not going to like it," he said, frowning. "For starters, I need you to start buying from me. I have to start earning my keep tomorrow and I just can't sell to anyone who may actually use the stuff."  
  
"Dad gave us plenty of cash," Frank informed Joe. "He knew you couldn't sell it to anyone."  
  
"Your dad suggested we start out as your regulars and he would have some guys you would recognize buy from you later," Biff told Joe.  
  
"That's good," Joe said. "But what I really need is a major buyer. Someone who would want enough, not just to use, but to resell. Someone who would keep trying to bargain for a lower price."  
  
"Dad can do that," Frank said.  
  
Joe shook his head. "Some of these guys still don't trust me," Joe argued. "Whoever this person is has to take up residence, maybe not on this street, but one nearby. Someone would notice if Dad cut out for a bit," Joe continued. "Especially when he's supposed to be in mourning." He paused and looked at Frank questioningly. "How is your absence being explained?" he asked.  
  
Frank grinned a bit sheepishly. "I had a nervous breakdown and am confined to bed." Joe grinned. "Oh," Frank said, suddenly remembering something. He got up and went into the bedroom. He returned a minute later with a small bottle.  
  
"This will get your eyes pinned," Frank said, coming over to where Joe sat.  
  
"You mean dilated," Joe corrected him.  
  
"No, I mean pinned," Frank restated. "You're eyes areonly dilated when you're on withdrawal. Full addicts have pinned eyes. Look up," he ordered Joe. Joe looked up and let Frank put a drop into each eye. "We'd better keep this stuff here," he said, closing the bottle. "Are you sure you want to go through with this?" he asked in concern. "It's not too late to get out and go home."  
  
"I have considered it," Joe admitted truthfully. "But I'm going to stick it out." They talked for a while longer, giving Joe some time to really relax and then all too soon, Joe stood up and said he had better get back. "Just one thing," he said, looking over at Chet. "Who are you?"  
  
Chet grinned. "The name is Bond," he said with a horrible British accent. Joe gave him a look which made him break out laughing. "Kevin Bond," Chet finally finished. Joe shook his head, amused, and put on his glasses. Then he left the apartment and went to upstairs to Trey's.  
  
"Where have you been?" Trey demanded, his eyes suspicious.  
  
"Meeting some of the people in the building," Joe replied honestly.  
  
"Who?" Trey asked, not completely convinced.  
  
"Blane and Kevin," Joe answered. "And I already knew Tony. They moved in today."  
  
"How do you know this Tony guy?" Trey demanded.  
  
"He was in rehab," Joe replied with a shrug. "His dad kicked him out when he caught him chasing the Tiger yesterday."  
  
Trey nodded. "Dinner will be here soon," he said, picking up the television remote. 'I ordered pizza."  
  
"Sounds good," Joe replied, sitting down in the floor in front of Trey and watching the sitcom Trey had turned on.  
  
The next morning, two more fixes of heroin down the toilet, Joe walked intot he living room, wearing the clothes Trey had left on the dresser sometime earlier. he already had his sunglasses on, the light bothering his eyes more now than it had previously, much to his surprise, and he was looking forward to seeing Frank and his friends again.  
  
Trey handed Joe a plate of pancakes. He had heard Joe moving around earlier and had fixed him the pancakes after he had devoured his own. Joe picked at his breakfast, too nervous about the day ahead to take more than a copuple of bites. Trey finally took the plate away, assumming Joe's lack of appetite was due to his addiction. He then picked up a belt pack and handed it to Joe.  
  
"Here's the deal," Trey told Joe. "You've got twelve dime bags of heroin in there. Go out, meet people, feel them out. See if they might be interested in buying from you. If they're new and haven't tried the stuff but you think they've got the potential for it, give them one for free. Let them feel how great it is," Trey continued. "But remember, you've got to be choosey. I'm sure you know how easy it would be to get busted."  
  
Joe nodded as he stood up. He strapped the pack to his waist. "Ten dollars per bag," Trey told him. "You can give away up to two," he added. "But when you return, you must have at least a hundred dollars or the equivalent in heroin."  
  
"Got it," Joe agreed, walking toward the door. He opened the door then turned to look at Trey. "Thanks," Joe told him. "For yesterday and the night before."  
  
"No thanks necessary, Kiddo," Trey said, smiling. "You're one of us now and we take care of our own."  
  
Joe left the apartment building and went outside. The sky was overcast and a slight drizzle kept Joe company as he walked down the street, stopping every now and then to chat with some of the people he met.   
  
Frank had figured Joe would hit the street before stopping in to sell his wares. He had the feeling Joe would be watched to see if he actually made any sells, so he had Chet go into the diner to wait. He knew Chet could eat until Joe arrived, causing no questions among the help.   
  
Biff had volunteered to go down to the end of the street were Gragg met Harvest street. He would make a buy there. Frank would wait until Joe was on his way back and purchase whatever he had left.  
  
When Joe stopped to talk to a girl who appeared about seventeen, he causght sight of Danny following him. Joe talked with the girl for several minutes then headed down the street. He saw biff lurking by the alley and gave a sigh of relief. He shuffled over to where Biff was leaning against the wall and started talking to him.  
  
"I'm glad you're here," Joe said softly. "I picked up a shadow."  
  
"Frank thought you might," Biff told him. "Chet' waiting for you in the diner." They talked for a bit more then, looking around and seeing only Danny trying to hide in the shadows of a doorway, the two slipped intot he alley. There, Joe kept his back to Gragg street as he quickly passed three bags to Biff. Biff gave Joe thirty dollars.   
  
Business concluded, they came tot he edge of the alley, talked a few more minutes, then Joe crossed over to the other side of the street, strolling by Danny who kept his eyes glued on Joe's every movement.  
  
When Joe went inside the arcade, Danny followed. Joe waited just inside the door and as Danny passed, he stepped behind him and tapped Danny on the shoulder. Danny spun around and Joe got right in his face. "You nearly lost me a sale back there," he snarled. "Stop following me. People will think you're a narc."  
  
Danny grabbed Joe by the neck. "Don't you ever call me a spy," he spat into Joe's face, his eyes glazed with hatred. "I don't know how you managed to fool everyone else but I've got your number Hardy," he continued. "You're going to screw up and when you do, you die!"  
  
"Back off," Joe growled. "You're nothing but a low-life wannabe." Joe smirked at him. "You're just upset because it's me under Trey's protection instead of you. What are you afraid of?"  
  
Danny's eyes hardened as he released Joe. Joe turned and left the building. Danny stared after him, his hand in his pocket, fingering his switchblade thoughtfully. 


	9. Chapter Nine

Highway from Hell  
  
Chapter Nine  
  
Joe strolled down the street and enterd the diner. Jenny came over at once and, taking Joe's arm, led him to an empty table. "How about the house special?" she asked, smiling at him as he sat down.  
  
"Why not?" Joe agreed. "And a coke," he added as she left.  
  
"Mind if I join you?" Joe looked up at the man who had come over to stand by his table. He was shorter than Joe with a lean build and curly black hair. He had blue eyes and a small scar at the corner of his chin. Joe's eyes widened in surprise behind the safety of his sunglasses, but he showed no recognition. Joe gave a slight shrug indicating he didn't care.  
  
"My name's Jack," the man said, sitting down across from Joe. "I've been watching you," he added, just loud enough for Jenny to hear as she stopped at the table next to them.  
  
"You have?" Joe asked suspiciously. "Why?"  
  
"I just moved onto Harvest street, around the corner," Jack answered, leaning back and smiling at Joe. "You look like the kind of person I need."  
  
"What are you talking about?" Joe asked, really confused. He had told Frank he needed a buyer in the neighborhood, but this was too soon and Jack Wayne, a friend of the Hardys in his mid-twenties, and his father's personal pilot, was acting more like he wanted Joe to work for him.  
  
Jenny came over to the table. "Hello," she said, smiling at Jack with a curious look in her eyes. "I'm Jenny, your waitress. Would you care for the house special?" she asked.  
  
"Now that would depend," Jack drawled. "What is it?"  
  
"Salisbury steak with cheese, mashed potatoes, green beans and a roll," she replied.  
  
"I think I'll just have a big, juicy burger loaded with onions, lettuce and tomatoes, easy on the mayo. Add a large order of fries and a cola," he gave her his order. "Thanks," he said, dismissing her and turning back to Joe. "I need someone who knows the area," he said.  
  
"Not me," Joe replied. "I just moved here."  
  
"Oh," Jack said, disappointed. "Where from?"  
  
"Across town," Joe answered, watching Danny come into the diner and take the table Jenny had just cleaned.  
  
Jack broke into a big smile. "Well, now, that's perfect," he said. "By area, I meant Bayport. You see," he added, leaning closer. "I'm, uh...how shall I put this, starting a new enterprise. I noticed you were in the same business," he added, making it clear to anyone listening exactly what enterprise he was embarking on.  
  
"Thanks," Joe replied with a faint smile. "But I have a boss." He saw Trey walk into the diner. 'Jenny must have called him,' Joe thought.  
  
Trey came over and sat down at the table behind Jack and Joe. "I can give you a better deal," Jack offered. "Your own place, plenty of cash, and say, thirty percent of sales?"  
  
Joe seemed to think this over. "Plus," Jack added, his eyes narrowing as he looked at Joe's covered eyes, "no more door to door. I've got big buyers lined up,"  
  
"Then why do you need me?" Joe demanded, his tone indicating he thought Jack was trying to lead him into a trap of some kind.  
  
"I need a go between. I don't want anyone to know who I am or where I get my supplies. With you as my middle man, no one else need ever know," Jack explained.  
  
"What makes you think I won't turn you in for a better deal?" Joe demanded.  
  
"You won't get one," Jack replied with confidence. He reached over and pulled Joe's sunglasses off. Joe blinked rapidly as his eyes tried to adjust to the brightness. "You're a user," Jack stated. "You need it as much as I need you. I've got the pure stuff and your fixes are on the house."   
  
Jack quit talking as Jenny came over with their lunch. Joe slipped his glasses back on and they ate in silence. Jack insisted on paying for Joe's meal. "Think it over," Jack told Joe, standing up. "I'll see you tomorrow," he added, leaving.  
  
Trey got up when Joe did and took Joe's arm in his. "That's enough work for one day," he said, leading Joe toward the door. "Let's go home."  
  
Chet, who had watched the scene quietly from a corner booth, paid his tab and left. He went straight to the apartment he shared with Frank and Biff. Biff, having already returned, opened the door when he heard a key put into the lock. Chet burst inside and told Frank and Biff about Jack coming into the diner and about Trey and another guy listening to Jack's and Joe's conversation.  
  
"Joe will tell us what Jack said when he stops by to sell the rest of his junk," Frank said.  
  
"No, he won't," Chet contradicted him, then told about Trey taking Joe and insisting they go home.  
  
"Blast it!" Frank said. "I wish I knew what was going on." He hated feeling left out of the loop. "I'm going out," he said. "I'll have dad tell me what Jack's doing, then we'll know if Joe's in any immediate danger," he decided. "You two hang out around here. Maybe on the steps or fire escape? That way, if Joe yells for help, you can hear him."  
  
Biff and Chet agreed and Frank left. He was going to hop on his motorcycle and get to a pay phone a few streets away. Meanwhile, Trey had taken Joe back to the apartment, not letting go of his arm until they were inside the door.  
  
"What's your problem?" Joe demanded, rubbing his arm where Trey had gripped it too tightly.  
  
"Who was the guy in the diner?" Trey asked.  
  
"What guy?" Joe inquired belligerently.  
  
Trey grabbed both Joe's arms and shook him. "Don't play games with me," Trey warned Joe. "Who was he and what did he want?"  
  
"He said his name was Jack," Joe replied. "He wants me to go and work for him."  
  
"Why you?" Trey demanded, looking at Joe quizzically.  
  
"He saw me pushing," Joe replied, taking off the beltpack. He gave the thirty dollars to Trey and the remaining heroin.  
  
Someone knocked on the door. "Who is it?" Trey called out.  
  
"It's me, Ken," Ken said from the hallway. Trey walked over and let Ken inside. "What's going on?" he asked Trey after he was in. "Danny called and said there was a problem." He glanced over at Joe as he said this.  
  
"Geez! I'd be better off at home!" Joe complained loudly, going into his bedroom and slamming the door. He peeped through the keyhole and saw Ken and Trey sit down on the sofa. He eased the door open just far enough so he could hear what they were saying.  
  
"What's the problem Danny was talking about?" Ken was asking.  
  
"Some new guy in town," Trey replied. "He caught Joe pushing and was trying to recruit him."  
  
"You think Joe would..." Ken began but stopped as someone knocked on the door. Trey got up and let Danny inside. Ken went over and the three of them talked quietly.  
  
Joe gave up trying to listen and went to the box on the dresser. He had blackened the vial enough so no one could tell if he prepared a fresh fix or not, so he merely removed some powder and a piece of foil and flushed it down the toilet. He went back to the door and peeped out.  
  
They were still huddled near the front door so he laid down on the bed, wondering what Ken wanted him to do. A few minutes later, Joe's door opened and Trey, Ken, and Danny came inside. "Time to move," Trey told Joe.  
  
"Why?" Joe asked.  
  
"This Jack guy might be a narc," Trey answered, but Joe could tell he didn't really think so.  
  
"Where are we moving too?" Joe asked, sitting up.  
  
"Trey's staying," Ken told him. "But you are going to stay with another friend of mine."  
  
"Him?" Joe demanded, looking at Danny with a face full of distatste.  
  
"No," Trey quickly assured him. "Jack had the right idea," he told Joe. "You're wasted as a two-bit pusher," he told Joe. "You're moving up."  
  
"You think I would work for him," Joe surmised.  
  
"Let's just say, we don't want to lose you," Ken said, intervening. "Let's go."  
  
"I don't want to," Joe argued. "I like it here."  
  
"You don't have a choice," Danny said, coming over and pulling Joe off the bed. They went downstairs and out to a black van parked at the curb. Danny hustled Joe into the back and climbed in after him. Ken got into the driver's seat and they took off. 


	10. Chapter Ten

Highway from Hell  
  
Chapter Ten  
  
Chet was lounging on the steps as they went downstairs. He followed them out of the building. He quickly read the tag number and was rushing to a pay phone to call Mr. Hardy when Frank came riding down the street, past the van and came to a stop in front of Chet.  
  
"Joe's in trouble," Chet told Frank who immediately jumped off his cycle and started racing toward the building with his helmet still on.  
  
"No!" Chet shouted. "The black van you just passed when you pulled in. He's in the back."  
  
Frank did an about face and got back on his cycle. He took off down the street, making a left at the end corner as had the van. He soon caught up with the van but stayed back far enough so he wouldn't be seen.  
  
Frank thought back to the conversation with his father. Instead of planting Jack as a buyer, which, in his father's own words, took too long, he had set Jack up as a new dealer in town. He hoped to force a confrontation with Trey's and Ken's boss by scaring him, or them, into believing they would be losing their buyers.  
  
'But something must have gone wrong,' Frank thought. 'Or did it? Were they taking Joe to meet the man in charge?' Frank wasn't sure what was going down, but he knew he had to keep up with the van because either way, Joe would need back up.  
  
The van took the next exit ramp, a green car with two adults in front and three kids in the back following behind. Frank slowed down seeing at once that the green car had tried to take the turn too fast. It hit the curb and turned over twice before coming to rest on it's top. Frank groaned in despair as he saw the van drive out of sight. He got off his bike and went to check on the car's occupants.  
  
Frank returned to the apartment on Gragg Street three hours later. Apart from some bruises and scrapes, no one had been hurt but Frank had to stay until the police arrived and his statement had been given.  
  
"Well?" Biff demanded anxiously when Frank entered the apartment.  
  
"I lost him," Frank admitted.  
  
"How?" Chet asked, worry etching his freckled face.  
  
Frank explained about the wreck. "Now we have no idea where they've taken him," he moaned, flopping into a chair.  
  
"I got the van's tag number and made a quick call to your dad," Chet said.   
  
"What do we do now?" Biff asked. "Stay here and wait to hear from Joe or go home?"  
  
"Neither," Frank decided. "I'm going to see Trey. Maybe I can get him to trust me."  
  
Frank left the apartment and started toward Trey's apartment but when he saw Joe coming he stopped and waited. Joe put a finger to his lips and shook his head. He mouthed, "Later," and continued on to Trey's door. Frank returned to his apartment as Joe knocked on the door and was let in.  
  
"What's wrong?" Chet demanded, jumping to his feet when Frank came back in.  
  
"Joe's back," Frank replied. "We wait," he added, closing the door.  
  
About two hours later, Joe knocked on Frank's door. He opened it and Joe came inside. "What a day!" he said, heaving a sigh as he dropped into a chair.  
  
"What happened?" Frank demanded impatiently.  
  
"Jack came into the diner and.." Joe began.  
  
"We know," Frank interuppted. "I talked to Dad," he explained. "Where did they take you and why?"  
  
"Danny convinced Ken and Trey they couldn't trust me to stay loyal to them so Danny and Ken took me to this place in the country. I don't know where, but there was this gorgeous red-head, Tara, who seems to be giving the orders. She kept asking me all sorts of questions and well, coming on to me," he added, turning red. "I think she wanted to make sure I wouldn't betray her. She asked me to lead Jack on. Find out who his buyers are and where he gets his supply."  
  
"She has a lot of faith in you," Chet said, suspicious of the woman. "What makes her think you can do all that?"  
  
"You dolt!" Biff chided Chet. "Joe's still himself. The only undercover aspect for him is everyone thinks he's a junkie."  
  
"I forgot," Chet said sheepishly. "So, do you think Tara is the person running the show?"  
  
"Maybe," Joe replied thoughtfully. "So far, she seems to be in charge and Ken's next in command. Then comes Trey and then Danny," he added. "I've heard a few other names mentioned but I think they were just street pushers like I was supposed to be."  
  
"What's this Tara like?" Frank asked, grabbing the eye drops from the end table and opening them.  
  
"About five foot nine with long red hair, clear skin, and blue eyes. Maybe thirty years old," Joe added with an indecisive shrug. He looked up at Frank and changed the subject. "I saw your pal earlier today." Frank gave him a quizzical look. "Cory," Joe reminded him.  
  
Frank put the drops in Joe's eyes before replying. "I'll check out the locals tomorrow," Frank promised. "Stay for dinner?" he asked as Joe stood up.  
  
"I can't," Joe declined. "I'm supposed to keep out and about as much as possible so Jack can contact me again."  
  
"You can't hang out on this street at night," Frank objected. "It's not safe!"  
  
"It is for me," Joe quickly assured him. "Trey made sure of it. Don't worry," he insisted, touching Frank's cheek. "I'll be fine, Big Bro." Joe gave a wave to his friends and left with Frank staring after him, a worried frown on his face.  
  
The diner was already closed when Joe got outside so he headed to the arcade. Inside, he saw Toots playing pool with Cory. "Hi," Joe said, walking over to them.  
  
Cory's eyes shot daggers at Joe, but Toots smiled at him. "Where have you been?" she demanded. "You were supposed to call me when you got out," she reminded him with a pout.  
  
"Ken got me a new place to live," Joe told her, looking at Cory scowling at him. "What's your problem?" Joe demanded when Cory threw his pool cue on the table.  
  
Cory never replied, but left the arcade, letting the door slam shut behind him.   
  
"He's flipped," Toots told him, picking up Cory's cue and handing it to Joe. "He's trying to get me to go to some meeting with him."  
  
"What kind of meeting?" Joe inquired.  
  
"He said it's like alcoholics anonymous, but it's for drug addicts. Forget that," she snorted, lining up and sinking a ball in the side pocket. "I like my life just the way it is." She glanced over at Joe. "Got any on you?" she asked, hopefully.  
  
"Sorry," Joe told her with a shake of his head. "My roomie's got it."  
  
"Oh, well," she said, missing her next shot. "I've got some stashed anyway."  
  
Joe finished the game with her and played another before leaving the arcade. He thought he would head over to Harvest Street and see what the area looked like since he was going to be moving in with Jack soon while undercover for Tara.   
  
He went down the alley and came out on Harvest Street near a movie theater. Looking at what was playing, he wrinkled his nose and moved on down the street. Just past the movie theater, he heard a muffled footstep. Before he could turn, something came crashing down on top of his head. Joe fell to the sidewalk unconscious. 


	11. Chapter Eleven

Highway from Hell  
  
Chapter Eleven  
  
When Joe awoke, he was lying in a trash dumpster. He tried to move only to discover his hands were tied behind him. His feet, too, had been bound and a bandana was in his mouth, tied behind his head. As he struggled with his bonds, the lid opened and several trash bags were tossed insdie. One hit his head, bursting open and used coffee grinds went sliding down his hair and face into his shirt. The lid closed and Joe was left in the semi-dark, the only light seeping in from the cracks around the lid.  
  
Joe's eyes roved the dumpster, but he could find nothing with which to sever his bonds. He kept struggling to free himself and eventually, he had become so slick from the wet grinds, catsup, and other slimy debris, he managed to wiggle one of his wrists free. He pulled his hands around in front of him and groaned when he saw his belt smothered in stains.  
  
He ripped off his gag and worked his way through the muck and undid the belt which bound his feet. Leaving his own ruined belt lying in the refuse, he wrapped the other belt around his wrist several times before working on opening the side door of the dumpster. Two bags fell out as he slid it open and jumped out. He tossed the bags back into the dumpster and started out of the alley he was in. He paused as he saw the garbage truck back into the alley. The men looked at Joe in disgust as he shuffled past them, a frown on his face.  
  
By the time Joe got back to his apartment complex, the sky was losing its last vestige of pink. He slipped into the building and went to the apartment shared by his brother and friends. The door was answered by a groggy Biff who shouted for Frank even as he pulled a weary Joe inside the apartment. Frank and Chet came running into the room, their nostrils filled with a rotting stench before they arrived.  
  
"What happened?" Frank demanded, rushing over to Joe in a panic and calming down only when he saw what he had assummed was blood was nothing more than catsup.  
  
Joe told them about getting attacked last night. "I never saw him, but he used my belt to tie my wrists and this one I found around my ankles," he added, unwrapping the belt from his wrist. "Maybe you can clean it up and find out where it was purchased and by whom?" he suggested, laying it on the coffee table.  
  
"Want to shower and change here?" Biff offered.  
  
Joe thought briefly before shaking his head. "This is the second attack on me and no one has mentioned anything," Joe said, declining the offer. "Trey and Ken think I gave myself the overdose at the foundation. I wonder what Trey will say when he sees me like this."  
  
"You think it could be some kind of test?" Chet wondered.  
  
"I honestly don't know," Joe responded. "Jack would never try to kill me and..."  
  
"Hold up!" Frank ordered, stopping Joe in mid-sentence. "You were just left in a dumpster, what's this about someone trying to kill you?"  
  
"The garbage truck arrived just after I had gotten out," Joe informed the trio. "If I had still been inside the dumpster, I would have been compacted."  
  
"It's over," Frank said firmly. "We're going home."  
  
"Frank, these guys aren't trying to kill me," Joe argued. "They wouldn't have taken me to meet Tara if that were the case. It has to be someone else."  
  
"Who?" Frank demanded. He knew Joe was right, but he still didn't like Joe being in such a vulnerable position.  
  
"I don't know," Joe admitted. "The only people I talked to last night were Toots and Cory."  
  
"Cory?" Frank asked, his eyes narrowing thoughtfully.  
  
"Yeah, he was trying to get Toots to go to a meeting for addicts," Joe explained.  
  
"I guess he really is trying to stay straight," Frank said with a sigh. For a moment, he had thought Cory might have been the one behind the attack.  
  
"From now on, we're following you," Frank decided with a direct look at Joe's eyes. "Go shower and get some rest. We'll keep watch and when you leave the apartment again, at least one of us will be in the background."  
  
"Sounds good," Joe said starting to smile but yawned instead. "Sorry."  
  
"Go to bed," Frank ordered, pushing Joe toward the door.  
  
When Joe reached his door, he dug his key from the filth which filled his pocket and inserted it into the lock. He pushed open the door and saw Trey walking toward him, a murderous expression on his face which changed to shock and then to concern. "What happened?" he demanded as he came over to Joe and inspected him for damage.  
  
Joe rubbed the small of his back as if it ached while he told Trey about being attacked. He broke into a fit of coughing and Trey had to wait for Joe to stop before he found out about being tossed in the dumpster.  
  
"Did you see who it was?" Trey asked, his eyes hard.  
  
Joe shook his head. "Go on to your room," he ordered Joe. "We'll worry about this Jack guy later today. Right now, you need a shower, some sleep, and unless I'm much mistaken, something else." Joe nodded and moved toward the bedroom. "Joe," Trey added, causing Joe to turn and look at him. "Give me your shoes. I'll clean them. Just toss your clothes into the trash." Joe nodded again. "I've put some new clothes for you in the closet."  
  
"Thanks," Joe replied, slipping out of his shoes and removing the soggy socks. He went to the bedroom and shut the door. After getting rid of more heroin and foil, he took his shower. He pulled on some briefs and sank down onto the bed, pulling a sheet on top of him. Minutes later, he was sound asleep.  
  
Joe awoke to a hand on his shoulder giving him a gentle shake. He slowly opened his eyes, blinking at the brightness. "Up and at'em, Kid," Trey told him. "Lunch time."  
  
Joe got up and dressed, walking into the living room in his socks. "Here you go," Trey said, handing Joe his sneakers which had obviously been taken tot he laundromat. He sat down on the sofa and put them on. "One more thing," Trey said, walking over to the television and picking up a pair of sunglasses with a blue frame. He handed them to Joe who accepted them with a smile.  
  
If Joe hadn't known Trey was only trying to maintain Joe's loyalty, he would have thought Trey actually cared about him. At times, Trey reminded him of Frank. "Are you sure you feel up to this?" Trey asked. "If not, you don't have to go through with it."  
  
"I can do it," Joe assured Trey. "I wouldn't want to let Tara down," he added.  
  
This was exactly what Trey had wanted to hear because he smiled at Joe as he said, "I know what you mean." He held out a hand and took Joe's, pulling him to his feet.  
  
Trey stayed behind and let Joe go alone. Joe entered the diner and saw Chet sitting in a corner booth. He glanced briefly at Joe, showing no sign of recognition. Jenny led Joe to the table he had sat at the day before. "What'll you have today?" she asked him.  
  
"I'll have the same," he said, smiling up at her. She winked at him and went to fill his order. While she was gone, Jack came into the diner. He stood and looked over the occupants, his eyes coming to rest on Joe. Joe looked up as Jack came over to join him. He gave a nod indicating Jack could sit with him if he so wished. As soon as he sat, Jenny came over and took his order then left the two of them alone, returning only to bring their orders.  
  
Jack kept up a steady stream of talk but kept his voice low enough so only Joe could hear him. Joe nodded every now nad then as if acknowledging something Jack was telling him. Had anyone overheard them, however, they would have heard Jack telling Joe about a crash he had been in back when he was first learning to fly.  
  
When they had finished lunch, Jack again paid for Joe's meal. This time, however, when Jack left the diner, Joe went with him. They exited the building and started down the street. Joe turned as he heard the sound of a car approaching. His eyes widened in surprise when he saw a gun protruding from the window. Gunshots ripped through the air. Glass shattered behind Joe and Jack and they fell to the sidewalk. When the car had gone, Joe and Jack lay among the broken glass, unmoving. 


	12. Chapter Twelve

Highway from Hell  
  
Chapter Twelve  
  
Jack slowly raised himself up to a sitting position and Joe followed suit. "You okay?" Joe asked.  
  
"Thanks to you," Jack replied grimly. "If you hadn't pushed me down before the shooting started..." he broke off and stood up. He offered Joe a hand and helped him to his feet as a siren sounded in the background.  
  
"Let's go," Joe said nervously.  
  
"Shouldn't we talk to the police?" Jack asked, looking amazed because Joe wanted to leave the scene of a crime.  
  
"I'm a junkie and you're a dealer," Joe reminded him.  
  
"Oh!" Jack said, his eyes widening in rememberance. They took off at a run through the alley and down harvest Street, never stopping until they reached the building where Jack was staying.  
  
"Much nicer apartments than the one I've been staying at," Joe noted in appreciation.  
  
"Your dad wants you safe at home as soon as possible," Jack told him as they entered the building and climbed the stairs. "He's gone all out to make me look like the king of suppliers."  
  
Jack unlocked the door to his apartment. "I still don't get exactly how this is supposed to work," Joe said.  
  
"Your dad thinks whoever is in charge of supplying the drugs in the area will either want to go in with me or want me dead. But," he added before Joe could interuppt, "they will want to know where I get my stuff because I'm going to be underselling and you are going to be living it up on your share of the profits."  
  
"When do you talk to Dad again?" Joe asked, sitting down on the leather sofa.  
  
"Tomorrow morning," Jack replied, stretching out beside him. "Why?"  
  
"We have to let him know about the shooting," Joe replied, frowning.  
  
"Frank?" Jack suggested.  
  
"Yeah," Joe agreed. "But it's way too early to go and see him and your phone's probably tapped."  
  
"Well, there's nothing we can do now," Jack told him. "Your dad gave me some stuff for you," he added. "It's in the room on the right. Take it easy and relax," he advised Joe. "Tomorrow, we start our sting."  
  
While Joe and Jack kicked back and watched television, Chet, who had witnesses the shooting and gotten the tag number on the car, raced down the street to a pay phone. He put in a call to Mr. Hardy who said he would call back in fifteen minutes.  
  
Chet waited impatiently by the phone, watching a squad car pull up to the scene. By the time the police had blocked off the area, fifteen minutes had elasped. Chet checked his watch, jumping nervously when the phone rang, even though he had been expecting it. Chet told Mr. Hardy about the shooting, assuring him that Joe and Jack had been unhurt, then gave him the tag number.  
  
"Tomorrow, you, Biff, and Frank are going to start working for Joe," Fenton told Chet. "Joe can fill you in on the details. Listen carefully, you are only to sell to people who know the code phrase," he continued. "Make any comment you like about the weather but unless the person replies with "I prefer the ice," don't sell."  
  
"Got it," Chet assured him, repeating the phrase over and over in his head until he was sure he had it. "I prefer the ice," he repeated so Mr. Hardy knew he understood. He hung up and returned to the apartment where Biff and Frank were waiting. He told them about the shooting and his conversation with Mr. Hardy.  
  
"You guys hang here," Frank told Chet and Biff when Chet had finished speaking. "I'm going to find Cory and talk to him."  
  
"Why?" Chet asked.  
  
"Joe said Cory was at the arcade last night," Frank said. "Maybe he saw who attacked Joe," he added, grabbing a pair of sunglasses off the television as he headed toward the door.  
  
Frank headed down the street to the arcade. He saw Cory going into the arcade and followed. "Hey," Frank said, coming up behind Cory as he stood in front of the room looking around.  
  
Cory jumped and spun around. "Oh, hi Tony," he said, relaxing when he saw Frank.  
  
"What's wrong?" Frank asked, noticing how edgy Cory seemed to be.  
  
"I haven't seen Toots all day," Cory replied. "She wasn't at any of her normal hangouts today."  
  
"Toots?" Frank queried, his face taking on a perplexed look even though he did know who Cory was talking about.  
  
"Oh, that's right," Cory said as realization dawned. "She left before you got there. I thought she was bad news, but after seeing Joe's friends, I think he was the cause," he continued.  
  
"Joe's not so bad," Frank said. He knew Joe had appearances to keep but Cory really seemed to hate Joe.  
  
Cory looked at Frank suspiciously. "You haven't been hanging out with him, have you?" he demanded.  
  
"I've seen him a few times," Frank admitted with a little shrug.  
  
Cory shook his head. "Man, you're better off without his kind. You got clean. Stay that way!" He took a deep breath and calmed down. "You want to go to a meeting tonight with me?" he asked.  
  
"I'm supposed to meet someone later," Frank lied.  
  
Cory's face froze. "Joe?" he asked, but continued before Frank could reply. "He won't show," Cory stated with certainity.  
  
"Why do you say that?" Frank asked, taking in Cory's appearance in a new light.  
  
"He just won't," Cory insisted. "Come with me tonight?"  
  
"For someone who was so dependant on the junk, you're really down on someone else who was," Frank observed.  
  
"People like Joe are bad news," Cory asserted, putting his hands into his pockets. "The sooner you realize that, the sooner you'll get clean and stay that way." With that, Cory left the arcade in a huff. Frank stared after him thinking about what Cory had said. He suddenly ran out of the arcade, looking for Cory, but he had all ready vanished.  
  
Frank returned to his apartment, a deep scowl on his face. He slammed the door behind him, causing Biff and Chet to jump to their feet. "What's wrong?" Chet demanded, his face covered in fear.  
  
"It's my fault," Frank said in self-disgust.  
  
"What is?" Biff asked, his brow wrinkling in puzzlement.  
  
"Cory's the one trying to kill Joe," Frank informed them.  
  
"How do you know?" Chet asked.  
  
"Why is that your fault?" Biff demanded at the same time.  
  
"I met Cory at the foundation," Frank told them. "I kept trying to get close to Joe but Cory kept getting in the way. His brother died of an overdose and he kind of took me under his wing. Joe got the rep for still using and Cory took a big dislike to him." Frank paused, thinking about what he had just said. "Hate, more like it. Someone gave Joe an overdose in the rec room at the foundation. We know it couldn't have been Ken, but we never found out who did give it to Joe. Cory had the opportunity and he hated Joe enough to do it."  
  
"But how did you find out it was him?" Chet asked again.  
  
"At the arcade tonight, he kept talking about Joe in the past tense and when he thought I was going to meet Joe later, he was positive he wouldn't show up." Fank stopped talking and looked at his friends. "And," he finally said, his voice steady, "he had on a belt identical to the one Joe's ankles were bound with, except this one was barnd new. I noticed part of the sticker on a loop when he put his hands in his pockets."  
  
Frank fell onto a chair with a weary sigh. "We've got to set a trap for Cory," he said, looking over at Biff and Chet. "Joe can't keep watching his back for Cory and work on this sting at the same time."  
  
"You need to talk to your dad," Biff advised. "I can call him from the pay phone.." he was offering when he was interuppted by Frank.  
  
"Call Chief Collig instead," Frank instructed. "Tell him to go and visit dad and tell dad to meet me at Pete's Diner by the docks. Be sure to tell him to have Dad wear a disguise.""Right," Biff agreed. "What time?"  
  
"Nine tonight," Frank replied. "We need to get Cory out of the way as soon as possible."  
  
  
  
"I'm starving," Joe said, coming out of the bedroom later, dressed in new jeans and a tee shirt sporting a heavy metal band's logo on the front.  
  
"Let's get started then," Jack said, standing up. "We've got reservations at Terrance's for eight o'clock," he added. "If you want to take a taxi, we'll have time to stop by the mall and get you some new shoes."  
  
Joe looked down at the sneakers he wore. They had seen better days even before the dumpster incident and their subsequent washing. "You're on," he replied with a grimace.  
  
They arrived at the mall and went to the shoe store. While Joe looked for some new Nikes, Jack wandered off to look for some dress shoes.  
  
Joe took a pair of neon blue shoes from the rack and sat down to try them on. He put the right one on and was tying it when he saw a set of high heels walking toward him. He looked up to see Tara, her long red hair put back in a pony tail. "Hi Joe," she said, smiling down at him, her eyes filled with curiosity.  
  
He started to answer when another voice called out, "Joe!" Joe turned and inwardly cringed when he saw blond-headed, green-eyed Callie Shaw coming down the aisle toward him.  
  
"What's going on?" she demanded, coming to a halt in front of him, her eyes flashing angrily. "I've been trying to...." 


	13. Chapter Thirteen

Highway from Hell  
  
Chapter Thirteen  
  
"Trying to what?" Joe snapped, cutting Callie off in mid-sentence, afraid she would mention Frank's absence from the Hardy home. "I told you before school let out we were through."  
  
Callie's eyes widened in shock for a fraction of a second, then quickly narrowed. She looked over at Tara. "You dumped me for her?" she demanded, assuming the role Joe had given her.  
  
"No," Joe replied. "But if I had it would be a step up," he sneered.  
  
Callie looked hurt. "You never used to be so mean," she said in a small voice.  
  
"Grow up," Tara told her, reaching down and ruffling Joe's hair. "He belongs to me now." Callie turned and stomped away.  
  
"Thanks," Joe said, standing up and looking into Tara's eyes with an affection he never felt.  
  
"Why did you break up with her?" Tara asked.  
  
Joe shrugged. "I was going into my senior year," he explained. "She was the only girl I had dated for ages. It was time to move on."  
  
"Where's Trey?" Tara asked, changing the subject.  
  
"Back at the apartment, I imagine," Joe answered. "Jack brought me here to get some new shoes before we went out to dinner at Terrances."  
  
"He still wants you to work for him?" she asked, her sharp eyes watching Joe's face.  
  
"Oh yeah," Joe replied. "But he's not near as much fun to be around as you are," he added, smiling into her eyes with a boyish grin.   
  
"You're so sweet," Tara cooed, kissing Joe on the lips. "I'd better vanish before he shows up. Remember, see if you can find out where he gets his supply," she added, touching Joe's cheek tenderly before walking away.  
  
"I will," he promised as she left. Joe tried out the shoes then took them off and put them back into the box. Putting his old shoes back on, he carried them up to the counter where Jack stood. Tara was looking at a pair of blue sandals and a man whom Joe hadn't seen before was standing patiently to one side, holding her purse as he waited for her.  
  
"I'll take these," Joe told Jack.  
  
"Great," Jack replied, a big smile on his face. "And I took the liberty of picking these out for you as well," he added, showing Joe a pair of black loafers. Joe wrinkled his nose. "Come, come," Jack urged Joe with a small laugh. "They won't let you in Terrances in sneakers and jeans."  
  
"Oh, yeah," Joe said, looking down at his attire. Jack paid for the shoes and they went into Serge's Men's Clothing Store where Jack bought Joe two suits, four pairs of pants, a blazer, and five shirts. Jack asked that all their purchases, except for one suit and a shirt,be delivered to his apartment.  
  
"Don't you think you're overdoing it?" Joe hissed at Jack when no one was around.  
  
"Not a chance," Jack whispered back. "You didn't see the wad of cash that joker with the redhead pulled out. We have to make them think I bring in more than he does."  
  
"Have you seen that guy before?" Joe asked, remembering the way the man's hazel eyes had kept glancing at Jack.  
  
"I think so," Jack admitted thoughtfully. "I can't remember where or when, but I am almost positive I've seen him somewhere."  
  
"I could use a watch," Joe said as they neared the jewelry shop.  
  
"Okay," Jack replied. "But keep the receipt. Your dad will have a fit after this one."  
  
"Why?" Joe demanded suspiciously as they entered the shop.  
  
Inside, Joe saw Tara and the strange man looking at necklaces. Another clerk came over to help Jack and Joe. "Yes," Jack replied in answer to the clerk's question of service. "My friend here needs a new watch."  
  
The clerk looked at Joe and promptly suggested another store which catered to the younger generation although his attitude left no doubt the price range of the store mentioned.  
  
"Nonsense!" Jack declared. "How abut that one?" he inquired, pointing to a silver watch with a black face and diamonds where the numbers should have been.  
  
"That watch is fifty-five hundred plus tax," the clerk began. "Perhaps..."  
  
"We'll take it," Jack interuppted the man.  
  
"Sir?" the clerk appeared shocked for a second but quickly recovered when Jack withdrew a roll of bills almost as thick as his fist. "Yes Sir," the clerk said. "Would you like it gift wrapped?"  
  
"He can wear it," Jack replied, laying the money on the counter.  
  
"Oh boy," Joe mumbled as they left the mall, knowing why Jack had told him to save the receipt now. "What if it breaks?"  
  
"No worries," Jack replied, grinning. "That was Ted who waited on us."  
  
"Ted?" Joe asked.  
  
"A friend of your dads," Jack explained. "I guess you were too busy to notice the look he threw at that watch. Your dad must have expected you to need one."  
  
"That's a relief!" Joe breathed. "I was watching Tara and her friend," he admitted. "You think they'll follow us to Terrances?"  
  
"I hope so," Jack answered. "Your dad's got a special surprise planned. But first, you had better run into Bob's Beefy Burgers and change," he added, coming to a stop in front of the burger joint. "I'll call us another cab while you change."  
  
Back at the Hardy home, Callie stood anxiously at the threshold, knocking continually. Laura opened the door, took in Callie's distraught state, and ushered her inside, calling up the stairs for Fenton.  
  
"I've done something terrible," Callie told the Hardys. "I saw Joe in the mall and I didn't know he was undercover."  
  
"Calm down," Fenton ordered gently. "What happened?"  
  
Callie told him about the scene at the mall. Fenton gave her a half-smile. "It sounds like you both put up an excellent save," he complimented her.  
  
"But..." Callie started, but Fenton interupted her.  
  
"Joe's only cover is as himself," he told her. He then gave her a brief description of the case.  
  
"Can I help?" she asked.  
  
Fenton shook his head. "Not this time," he declined her offer. "I'll have Frank call you as soon as he can," he promised as she got up to leave.   
  
After Callie left, Fenton kissed Laura on the cheek and told her he was off to meet Frank at Pete's Diner. Fenton stopped by Sam Radley's house, a close friend and associate, to don his disguise. As the meeting time approached, an old gentleman with graying hair and a beard, using a cane, ambled into Pete's Diner. No one gave the man's wrinkled face a second glance as he made his way to a back table where a young boy with black hair sat. "Mind if I sit with you?" the old geezer croaked. "I hate to eat alone, Sonny."  
  
Frank looked up and hid a smile. "Sure," he said and watched his father sit down across from him.  
  
The waitress arrived and took their order. After she had departed, Frank glanced around to make sure no one was paying any attention to them, then he told his father about Cory.  
  
Fenton frowned. "I know Biff's a little bigger than Joe, but do you think from a distance, Cory might think he was Joe?"  
  
"After he finds out Joe is still alive, he might," Frank replied wryly. "Why?"  
  
"If Biff will agree, we'll set up a buy between you and Joe--Biff, and arange for Cory to see it," Fenton told him.  
  
"So Cory will follow Biff and try to kill him?" Frank asked.  
  
Fenton nodded. "We'll arrange the perfect spot with no visible witnesses. When he tries to go after Biff, we'll nab him."  
  
Frank and his father discussed the particulars of the plan over dinner. When Frank left, he returned to the apartment and filled in Chet and Biff who were enthusiastic about the plan.  
  
Jack and Joe arrived at Terrances and were seated at once. A few moments later, Tara and her friend were seated at the next table. Jack leaned over toward Joe. "Let the show begin," he whispered, then stood up as two men, both in three piece suits, came over to their table.  
  
Jack greeted the two men and introduced Joe who also stood to shake hands with the men.  
  
"Joe's my new vice president," Jack told the two men as they all sat down.  
  
"Oh?" asked the midddle aged Craig Donovan, looking at Joe in surprise.  
  
"I've decided to stick with the transport division of the company," Jack informed the group. "Joe is a native of the area and will make an excellent distributor."  
  
"His qualifications?" asked Jeffery Hail, looking at Joe questioningly.  
  
Jack smiled. "He's a former detective who, shall we say, had a change of heart. He has experience in local distribution and I foresee a..mmmm... lucrative future for him."  
  
"Former detective?" Hail demanded. "Hardy?" he added, his voice hardening as his eyes narrowed angrily on Joe.  
  
"Relax," Jack ordered the man. "Joe is indeed Fenton Hardy's son. But, Hardy believes Joe died from an overdose while at the Dulcimer Foundation. Joe has been working at a lower level in the trade ever since."  
  
Hail stared at Joe. "Take off the shades," he ordered him. Joe looked over to Jack who nodded. He slowly removed his glasses, blinking at the increased brightness before looking Hail in the eyes. 


	14. Chapter Fourteen

Highway from Hell  
  
Chapter Fourteen  
  
Joe's pinned eyes started bothering him so he put the shades back on. Hail reached a hand over to Joe, who took it in his own. "Welcome to the organization," Hail accpeted him, shaking hands firmly. Joe nodded but said nothing as a waiter arrived to take their order.  
  
  
  
"Nervous?" Frank asked Biff as they stood in the park by the fountain.  
  
"A little," admitted Biff. "Are you sure Chet's going to be able to get Cory here?"  
  
"He's been looking for Toots, but her parents found out she was still hooked and sent her to her aunt's in Oregon. They have a facility there with a good turnout," Frank informed Biff. "Anyway, Chet's going to let Cory think she's been hanging out here so he'll come with him."  
  
"And when Cory sees us together, thinking I'm Joe, he'll think I've been keeping her supplied and be twice as mad," Biff finished. "Are you sure we're not out here alone?" he asked, anxiously looking around.  
  
"Positive," Frank promised him. "Relax. We're not going to let anything happen to you." He glanced at his watch. "Chet and Cory should be showing up anytime now."  
  
Biff and Frank talked a bit more and then Biff opened his jacket and pulled out what looked like a small bag of heroin. Frank pulled some cash out of his pocket and handed it to Biff and took the bag. "Good luck," Frank told him as he left Biff alone.  
  
"Guess I was wrong," Chet told Cory, looking around. "She was here last night," Chet added, looking back at Cory who was staring intently at Biff in the distance. Biff hadn't turned around to face them and from this distance, he was easily mistaken for Joe. "I've got to go," Chet said. "You coming?"  
  
"No," Cory replied, looking over at Chet. "I'll wait a bit and see if she shows up."  
  
"Okay," Chet agreed somewhat reluctanly, but he turned and left.  
  
Cory watched the boy he thought was Joe for several minutes before moving slowly down toward the fountain. Biff heard him approaching but, remembering it was important Cory actually try to kill him, he remained facing the fountain, staring into the water as though fascinated by something there. Cory pulled a gun from beneath his shirt, which had been tucked into the area between his skin and jeans, and got a bead on the youth in front of him.  
  
"Freeze" ordered a voice from Cory's right. Startled, Cory froze at the same moment Biff fell to the ground as he had been instructed earlier that evening. Cory was immediately surrounded by police officers. Frank and Chet came out of their hiding places as one of the officers put cuffs on Cory's wrists.  
  
Cory looked at Frank, hurt and confusion written all over his face. He started to say something but at that moment, Biff got to his feet and came over. "You're not Joe!" he exclaimed in shocked amazement.  
  
"No," Biff agreed. "Lucky for you."  
  
"What do you mean?" Cory demanded, his eyes narrowing.  
  
"He means you're lucky you never killed my brother," Frank told him.  
  
"Your-- but..." Cory seemed too confused to speak.  
  
"Joe's not a junkie," Frank told him. "He never was."  
  
"He's been trying to find the supplier and put him out of business," Chet added.  
  
"Trey!" Biff suddenly shouted, his eyes wide. He had seen Trey and Jenny taking off at a run for the park's exit.  
  
"Get'em," ordered Sergeant Riley.  
  
Frank, Biff, Chet, and most of the officers gave chase but they had too much of a start and escaped into the dark.  
  
"Oh, man," Biff siad. "This is so not good!"  
  
"Joe's cover is blown," Chet said, wringing his hands in worry.  
  
"We've got to get to Jack's apartment," Frank declared, taking off at a run. Biff and Chet followed.  
  
  
  
After dinner, Jack and Joe were having a final cup of coffee before leaving Terrances. Their dinner guests had departed after dessert. Jack leaned in close to Joe and told him he had finally remembered where he had seen Tara's friend.  
  
"Where?" Joe asked.  
  
"Turkey," Jack answered. "He was at the airport trying to find a new pilot."  
  
"That's why you said you were handling the transport," Joe said, finally understanding why Jack had changed from new guy on the block to transient.  
  
"Right," Jack agreed. He rose from his chair. "I'll be back in a few," he told Joe and headed for the men's restroom.  
  
After Jack had gone, Tara and her friend came over to Joe's table. "Joe," Tara said. "This is Roger Filman," she introduced the man. Joe gave a curt nod of acknowledgement.  
  
"We couldn't help overhearing your conversation," she continued. "Your new friend prefers transportation, flying perhaps, so maybe he would like to work for us."  
  
"As opposed to running his own business," Joe couldn't resist adding with a tinge of sarcasm.  
  
"But he isn't," Roger spoke for the first time. "Not really. He's expecting you to do it for him."  
  
Jack returned from the men's room to find Tara and Roger sitting at their table. "Hello," he said, sitting down. "We do seem to keep running into each other," he observed.  
  
Roger looked at Jack. "Let's cut to the chase," he said. "I saw you in Turkey a few months ago. I assume you were gathering supplies?"  
  
Jack looked over at Joe who shrugged. "They are my old bosses," he told Jack.  
  
"I see," Jack said, turning to look at Roger, all pretence of friendliness gone. "Joe has agreed to work for me."  
  
"But you don't understand," Roger replied smoothly. "We, that is Tara and I, want you to work for us."  
  
"Excuse me?" Jack asked, lifting an eyebrow in surprised amusement.  
  
"You obviously need a distributor and Joe, while he is an excellent employee, hasn't had the experience you require," Roger stated.  
  
"And you have?" Jack asked.  
  
"I used to be in charge of procurement but, with the exception of Tara, my distributors have been," he paused, searching for the right word, "retired."  
  
"Dead?" Jack asked, his eyes narrowing.  
  
"Two of them," Roger admitted. "The others are enjoying state accomodations."  
  
"And you would be willing to work for me?" Jack inquired, disbelief evident in his voice.  
  
"I was actually considering a partnership," Roger contradicted.  
  
"From your conversation earlier, we learned you have a healthy supply on hand," Tara said.  
  
"I can get it turned into cash in hardly no time at all," he promised.  
  
"Why do you want my supply?" Jack asked curiously. "Surely you have your own?"  
  
"Alas, when my distributors were taken so was their supply and my cash," Roger admitted with a scowl.  
  
"So you have no supply," Jack said. "But you have just admitted you no longer have distributors either. Why do you need a supply?"  
  
"Distributors aren't all that hard to come by," Roger pointed out. "And we do have lots of buyers. And I do have a supply, a small one, but enough to see my best buyers through until I can get another shipment in."  
  
"I have all ready found my distributors," Jack stated.   
  
"Look, I've been running things in this area for well over five years now," Roger said, leaning closer to Jack. "Becuase of this fiasco with Kenny Wallace I have had to move out of the field and come here to clean up. You're a pilot. You got lucky once in finding a strong supply, but that doesn't mean you can keep it up. I know where the junk can be found at any time on a regular basis. I just need the pilots. I have already attained enough new distributors to pick up the slack. But I need a temporary supply to see me through. I'm offering you a chance to be my partner. Something I haven't offered anyone, ever."  
  
"Partners?" Jack asked, leaning back in his chair and looking at Roger thoughtfully.   
  
"Fifty-fifty," Roger offered. "Under the circumstances, I consider that fair."  
  
"Indeed?" Jack asked, taking in Roger's stare. "Very well," Jack agreed to Roger's offer. "If you can proove what you say, then I will accept your terms."  
  
"What kind of proof?" Roger demanded.  
  
"I want to see the remaining supply you claim to have. If it does exist, then I will concede you control under the terms you have set forth."  
  
"Let's go," Roger said.  
  
"Right now?" Jack inquired.  
  
"Why not?" Roger countered.  
  
"No reason, I guess," Jack replied, looking at his watch. "We can always sleep late in the morning."  
  
The foursome left the restraunt, Roger and Jack rode in the front of Roger's car while Tara and Joe rode in the back. They ended up out in the country at the same house Joe had been taken to earlier.  
  
Tara put her hand over Joe's and squeezed it. He looked at her and she gave him a wink. "Roger is my first cousin. We inheireted the place from my grandfather several years ago," she told Joe.  
  
Roger parked the car and they all got out and started up the porch steps. As they neared the top, Trey stepped out from the shadows, gun in hand.  
  
"What is wrong with you?" Roger demanded sharply of Trey.  
  
"He's a narc," Trey said, pointing the gun at Joe.  
  
"Don't be ridiculous," Tara snapped.  
  
"Tony Davis is really Frank Hardy," Trey informed them. "I saw him and some cops busting Cory tonight. Frank told Cory Joe had never been addicted. It was all an act to find the suppliers."  
  
Roger never said a word. He turned and decked Jack with a right uppercut before he could blink. Joe started forward but Trey had already raced down the last few steps. He clobbered Joe on the side of the head with the gun. Like Jack, Joe fell to the ground unconscious. 


	15. Chapter Fifteen

Highway from Hell  
  
Chapter Fifteen  
  
Frank, Chet, and Biff arrived at Jack's apartment to find no one there. They searched around the place trying to find a clue to where they had gone. Frank noticed the notepad beside the telephone. "Terrance's at 9 pm," he read aloud. "Let's go," he told the others.  
  
They arrived outside Terrance's around ten thirty. Frank knew it was a long-shot, but he started inside, telling Chet and Biff to wait for him. As Frank started in, a man in a pair of navy blue jeans and a black tee shirt rushed forward and took his arm, pulling him away from the entrance and into the shadows. Chet and Biff rushed to Frank's aid but stopped short as they recognized his attacker.  
  
"What are you doing here?" Chet demanded in surprise.  
  
"Keeping an eye on Joe," Fenton replied. "Why are you three here?"  
  
"Trey," Biff answered with a grimace.  
  
Fenton's eyes narrowed as he waited for an explanation which Frank supplied him with in short order. "Let's go," he said, leading the way over to a van parked at the corner.  
  
The four climbed into the back of the van. "What's happening?" Fenton asked one of the two men inside.  
  
"Jack's laid the trap," Agent Mason replied. "They are leaving now."  
  
"Boys, come with me," Fenton ordered, opening the van's door and jumping out. He led them to a car which was parked nearby and they climbed in. Frank sat in front with his father while Chet and Biff sat in the back.  
  
"How did Agent Mason know they were leaving?" Chet asked after Joe, Jack and two other people climbed into a Buick and pulled out into traffic.  
  
"Jack bought Joe a watch this afternoon which has a transmitter inside," Fenton explained as he followed the car carrying Joe and the others. Fenton glanced over at Frank's face. He seemed to be working on a problem. "What is it?" he asked his son.  
  
"That woman--Joe said her name was Tara," Frank said, frowning.  
  
"What about her?" Fenton inquired, stepping on the gas as the Buick picked up speed to pass a row of cars.  
  
"I know I've seen her somewhere before," Frank replied.  
  
Fenton pulled out to try and pass but saw a tractor-trailer coming up fast. After it had passed, Fenton edged around the other cars but the Buick was long gone. He pulled out his cell phone and called Agent Mason. "They've lost them," Fenton told the boys.  
  
"Nurse Reddy," Frank said, looking over at his father. "That's who Tara is. She was the nurse I spoke to when I tried to see Joe at the foundation."  
  
Fenton called Mason again. "Get an address for Tara Reddy," Fenton told him. "She's a nurse at the foundation as well as the red-head in the Buick." In less than five minutes Mason called back with an address.  
  
Fenton pulled off the main road and came to a stop beside the van which had been ahead of them. The four of them climbed out of the car and into the van once again. "What's wrong?" Fenton demanded, seeing Mason's distresssed look.  
  
"Jack and your son have been captured," he informed Fenton. "Someone was waiting when they arrived and blew Joe's cover."  
  
"Trey," Frank said grimly.  
  
"That was the name mentioned," Mason admitted.  
  
"What's happening now?" Fenton asked.  
  
"Jack has been taken to the basement," was the reply. "Roger and Tara have decided to keep Joe with them until they are out of the country. Apparently," Mason continued, "they haven't realized Joe's watch has a transmittter."  
  
"Sir," came Agent Cortez's voice from the receiving console. "Joe has regained consciousness."  
  
"Speaker," ordered Mason.  
  
"Where's Jack?" Joe was asking.  
  
"In the basement, for now," Tara answered him. "We'll have to eliminate him when Ken gets here."  
  
"You were the supplier all along?" Joe asked her.  
  
"No," Roger answered. "I was. Tara's job description is the same as Benton's was."  
  
"You brought the heroin into the foundation," Joe accused Tara. "And had Ken keep your customers going."  
  
"Of course," Tara admitted.  
  
"Why did you single me out to work for you?" Joe asked her.  
  
"You, your father and brother, are the reason we lost so much," Roger answered for Tara, standing in front of Joe and looking down into his eyes which were starting to return to normal. "It was only fitting for you to become what you all despised. I'm sure your father suffered greatly when he thought you had died. At least," he added, his eyes growning hard, "until you managed to get in contact with him."  
  
"How did you pull off the overdose in the rec room?" Tara asked Joe, her face wrinkled in thought. "You were comatose."  
  
"Someone grabbed me and stuck a needle in me before I could fight them off," Joe answered.  
  
"Cory," Trey informed them.  
  
"Have you got everything?" Roger demanded.  
  
"All five hundred bricks," Trey replied.  
  
"Do you have any prepared?" Tara asked.  
  
Trey shook his head. "Why?" he asked.  
  
"We need to keep Joe with us for awhile but we need him manageable," Roger answered for her. "Also, we need some for our friend in the basement. I'll fix it while you take the last load out," Roger said.  
  
Tara ruffled Joe's blond hair affectionately. "Who knows?" she said, smiling down into his angry eyes. "Maybe by the time we are safely out of the country you really will be addicted. You may even give yourself the grand injection that ends your feeble life."  
  
"The only people with feeble lives are those who cause suffering just to make a buck," Joe spat at her.  
  
"All set," Roger said, coming over, needle in hand. "Ready for a ride?" he asked Joe, smiling as Tara pulled Joe's sleeve up, exposing his arm.  
  
"He's not, but you are." Joe heard the wonderfully deep voice of his father. He looked over at the door and saw his father, brother, and friends standing there. "You're ready for a ride to the state pen," Fenton concluded.  
  
"How sweet," Tara cooed. "You've come to see us off." She reached into her handbag to get her handgun but froze when she felt the barrel of a gun in her back.  
  
"You're under arrest," Agent Mason said from behind her.  
  
"What took you so long?" Joe demanded as several officers suddenly poured into the room.  
  
"We had to wait for reinforcements," Mason informed Joe as Frank came over to untie him from the chair.  
  
"We were listening," Frank told Joe. "There was a transmitter in your watch."  
  
"I kind of figured that out," Joe told him. "Jack is in the basement," he added, noticing no one had gone after him.  
  
"Officer Ollivander is down there now," Mason said. "They'll be up soon."  
  
It was a happy group who arrived at the Hardy household shortly before sunrise. Joe crept upstairs and woke his mother, who squealed with delight as she pulled Joe into a huge bear hug which left him gasping for air. After she finally released him, he went to shower and change. By the time he had finished, Laura had dressed and gone downstairs to prepare a big breakfast for everyone.  
  
Frank and Jack took turns filling Laura in on what had happened that evening. When they had finished, her eyes were bright. "What's wrong?" Joe asked in concern. His mom shouldn't be about to cry.  
  
"I'm just happy to have all my men home and safe," she answered. Fenton reached over, took her hand, and squeezed it gently.  
  
"What happened to the guy at the funeral home?" Biff asked. "The one who gave you the ashes that were supposed to be Joe's?"  
  
The phone rang and Frank went to answer it while his father answered the question. "Agent Mason had him arrested before dinner last night," Fenton informed the group. "Falsifying cremations wasn't all he was into," Fenton continued. "He was caught stealing rings, watches, and other items which should have been returned to the families."  
  
"That's sick," Chet commented and no one disagreed.  
  
Frank hung up the phone and returned to the table with a huge grin on his face. "Give," Joe ordered.  
  
"No one was talking until Jenny got busted," Frank said. "Then Trey decided to confess. He fingered Roger and Tara as being in charge and Ken as being the pusher at the foundation."  
  
"We already knew that," Joe interrupted. "The DEA got it all on tape before you burst in to rescue Jack and me."  
  
"Yeah," Frank agreed, still grinning. "But Trey also ratted on Danny and about eight other guys who were working as distributors. Agent Mason said this has turned into the biggest bust of the summer. They have enough evidence to lock them all up after searching their places."  
  
Joe leaned back in his seat thoughtfully. "Too bad all this had to happen after Kenny died," Joe said quietly.  
  
Fenton cleared his throat. "Joesph," he began but Joe interrupted him before he could begin.  
  
"I know Dad," he said. "This entire mess could have been avoided if I had done what I was supposed to. You're right. I'm sorry. But I'm not sorry we stopped them," he added."Actaully," Fenton said, smiling affectionately at his youngest son, "I was going make you a deal."  
  
"What?" Joe asked suspiciously.  
  
"I'll never forbid you to work on a case with your brother if you promise to never try and solve one without him," Fenton said.  
  
"He promises," Frank repled for Joe before he could answer. "Because if he ever does, I'll break both his legs so he'll have to stay with me."  
  
Everyone except Frank and Joe burst out laughing. Frank's eyes met Joe's and Joe new Frank had meant what he had just said. Joe smiled and lifted his glass of orange juice in a silent toast of consent.  
  
End 


End file.
